Shadows of the Past
by Rdr2
Summary: A trio of young Jedi have to stop a cryogenically-frozen Sith Lord from poisoning the galaxy. They know their foes,but who are their friends? COMPLETE
1. Shadowed Domain, Ch 1

**_Shadows of the Past, Book One: Shadowed Domain_  
**

_Timeline:_ 20 years after the Battle of Yavin

**Chapter One: The Absentminded Professor**

The blue-white streaks of starlight suddenly shrank around the small starship, coalescing into the vast emptiness of space. But that vast emptiness was not quite so empty, as blip after blip appeared on the ship sensors. A dozen craft from the size of snub fighters to as large as a cargo hauler were dropping out of hyperspace. In this desolate region of space, there was only one place that so many ships could go to: Station Corday.

"Hey, Ascera, wake up." The dark-faced youth shook her from bleary slumber. "Come on, featherhead. We're here."

The Twi'lek girl yawned and stretched; the rough homespun she wore chafed and further brought her from her soporific state. "Has it already been five days?"

"Yes."

Five days of hyperspace travel, with only three music holos to listen to and two holovids to watch. It had been a trying five days to stave off boredom. Even with the Force as their ally, it was a real challenge to stay occupied in the cramped Whitecloak starfighter they had been given.

Outdated even in the waning days of the Old Republic, the Whitecloak fighter had enough room to seat two people in a modicum of comfort. But five days in a cockpit was just too much, even for a pair of Jedi. Ascera was grouchy, her normal reserve of calm and serenity expended. Ran was even worse, and Ascera knew how easily susceptible to boredom he was.

"I don't think I'll be able to walk," the Twi'lek grumbled. She had lost count of how many times her foot had fallen asleep on their long voyage. "I can barely feel my leg muscles. Bet you must feel just as bad, huh, Ran?"

"I copy that," her human companion groused. Their tiny starfighter landed in the designated docking bay on the space station. Ran released the cockpit hatch and gingerly climbed out, testing out his sore legs. Ascera followed with the same amount of care. Her first step on the ground faltered and she nearly fell flat on her face. Luckily, she called upon the Force to steady herself just in time to save her dignity. It would not do for a Jedi to collapse as soon as she touched ground.

Ascera smoothed her brown-and-white robes and took stock of her utility belt, ensuring that everything was still there. With the way she slept, she would not be surprised if half of her food capsules had fallen out. But a quick check revealed that none of her pouches had opened. She patted her hip and groaned. Her lightsaber had fallen off. Again.

Ran lightly tapped her shoulder. "You dropped this," he said lightly, laughter apparent in his bright green eyes. In his hand was her lightsaber, offered to her hilt first.

She took the weapon with a huff. "You don't have to look so pleased. It's not like you pilfered it off me or anything." She clipped it to her belt with sharp hauteur. "Come on, we've got a job to do, so let's do it."

"Aye-aye, Captain Jedi," he rhymed in an off-key singsong voice, a crude imitation of her own resonant soprano.

"You know, you're not as funny as you think you are, Ran."

"And you need to loosen up!" He sighed as he threw his arms behind his head, his habitual way of releasing pent-up tension. "Ever hear about the rancor that was in a race with a womp rat? Well, the rancor was real fast and just kept right on running—ran so much that he just got tired. The womp rat, smart rodent that it is, just trudged along merrily until he won the race."

He slapped her hard on the back. "Come on, we've just spent five boring days in a cramped starfighter with barely enough room to breathe. All we could do is sit on our rears while eating stale rations and watching sub-par holos. I, for one, think we're due _some_ kind of fun. Station Corday is known for being the last bit of entertainment in the region. I say we take advantage of it. We're no good if we run ourselves ragged."

Ascera had to agree with his summarization of their voyage. She could use some relaxation after all that time in the ship. Looking around, she also agreed with his assessment of the station. Beneath a transparisteel dome that allowed full view of the stars were scores of smaller hemispheres—buildings. She had read a little bit about Station Corday: that it was originally created by the mathematical Givin before being abandoned during Emperor Palpatine's rise to power. Smugglers used it as a base during the Galactic Civil War, but fled when the New Republic reclaimed the region. Now it was a resort of sorts, catering to the inhabitants of the Outer Rim, giving them a taste of Core World entertainment.

Exotic foods wafted across Ascera's nose as she and Ran made their way out of the spaceport and into the station proper. Her stomach rumbled loudly and a pink blush stole across her blue skin. Next to her, Ran was laughing hysterically, with his usual abandon. "After five days of eating space rations, I think I'm entitled to show a little interest in real food!" she snapped defensively. Ran only nodded, too busy expressing his mirth to verbally respond.

Finally, he regained some composure and offered, "I'll buy us something. I'm getting a little hungry myself." Still chuckling, he spoke with a nearby Aqualish vendor and returned with four half-shelled and hard-boiled eggs of some fowl that Ascera could not identify. Ran handed two to her. "Try these. I had some when Master Skywalker sent me to Yvista to take care of a band of spice smugglers."

"Oh, so _this_ is why you smelled like bantha poodoo for two weeks?" Ascera wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell but popped one into her mouth. Her eyes widened. "Whoa, if this is what they taste like all the time, no wonder you didn't mind the other students making fun of you for being stinky."

Ran smiled and popped a foul-smelling egg into his mouth. "Good, aren't they? I kind of got hooked on them for a while on Yvista. I don't even want to think about how much I spent on these things. Or how much weight I gained. I had to do twenty lightsaber forms every day for a month just to get back to my original weight."

"I didn't think you were terribly concerned about such things."

"I'm not," he said, popping the second egg into his mouth, "but it's real hard to do flips if you're heavier than a bantha. Ah, look, there's Eon Park. That's where we're supposed to meet this Dr. Shemza character, right?"

The Twi'lek nodded. Master Skywalker had sent them to meet a colleague of his, a Coruscant University professor, and bring him to Yavin Four. There was no explanation as to why Jedi had to be the ones to meet with him, but Ascera suspected that the skills of a Jedi would be needed to protect the professor. Protect him from what was an entirely different matter. She had posed her concerns to Ran, and he agreed with them.

Ascera saw a lanky, thin-bearded man in wide-rimmed spectacles dressed in simple, nondescript garments. Though he had dyed his hair from its gray-brown to a dark red, she recognized him from the holos Master Skywalker had shown her and Ran. She walked over to the old man, Ran in tow.

"Dr. Shemza," she greeted perfunctorily. The old man stiffened visibly, eyes wide with fear. "I am Ascera Dax. This is Ran Tonno-Skeve. Master Skywalker sends you his greetings."

The doctor sighed in relief, his shoulders slouching. "Thank the Core Worlds that you're here, Master Jedi. You can't imagine how the past five days have been for me."

Ascera's eye twitched on reflex. "I'm sure I can," she said through gritted teeth and no small amount of pain in his legs. To the doctor's befuddled expression, she continued, "But that is neither here or there. We were sent to meet you, but to send two Jedi just to speak with you seemed a bit much. I believe that we are here as your guardians. Apparently, this is the case."

The doctor nodded. "I have a datapad in my pocket containing my research. Master Skywalker contacted me some years ago when I first started the project. But recently, I have received death threats and have even been attacked in my own home. I found my laboratory ransacked earlier this week and was attacked only a few days ago by Rodian bounty hunters!" He trembled, his small body quaking from head to toe. "I just can't stand this much longer, Master Jedi! I'm a scholar, not an adventurer! But I know that I must get this information to Master Skywalker. It is imperative that he see it."

Ascera only nodded, though questions brimmed within her. "All right. Come with us, our ship is in the docking bay. We can leave as soon as you're—"

"Ascera," Ran said in a stony, hard voice, looking past her and Shemza. Ascera followed his gaze. A quintet of Rodians carrying blasters was approaching. The park was empty, with not even a patrol officer in sight. Any fight here would go unmentioned; it was the opportune time for bounty hunters to strike, and Ascera knew it. There was no mistaking their purpose.

"I'll get the doctor to the ship," she said. "Hold them off, Ran." With that, she took the professor by the arm and led him down the street. Though she was loath to leave her friend behind on principle, she knew better than anyone else that Ran could take care of himself in a fight. Not even four gundarks had been able to bring him down, and that was when he was acting stupid. She heard blasters firing and Rodians screaming in pain as she and the professor turned a corner.

They clambered into the cockpit of the Whitecloak fighter, sealing the hatch above them. Ascera sent the ship into its start-up cycle as she bombarded the Shemza with questions. "What's going on here, doctor? Rodians don't hunt people for research data. What are you carrying? What were you researching?"

Shemza clicked his crash webbing into place, sighing as he reclined into the stiff seat. The cockpit must have seemed like a sanctuary to him if he could look so relaxed in that seat. Ascera felt a stab of envy and her legs ached in reply. "My research dealt with the Jedi of the Old Republic. My grandfather was a Jedi Knight, you see. And no, I'm not Force-sensitive myself. But he told my father many stories, which he passed on to me. I was always fascinated by the romantic tales of the Jedi, you see. So I became a historian and an anthropologist, and the Jedi became my hobby of sorts."

"And your research?" Ascera pressed.

"I found some texts—as in books, mind you, not datapads or digital databases—I found some texts in the Coruscant archives. They were in a very ancient dialect of Basic, and it was badly damaged by time and moisture. I was able to salvage most of it, though, and it indicated that there was Jedi Temple on a planet called Mathassi."

"Mathassi? I've never heard of any planet by that name. The archives at the academy have no record of it, either. Master Skywalker and the other scholars have poked them inside and out and haven't heard of it."

"This Temple was apparently a secret enclave, but I haven't the foggiest idea why it was like that." Shemza took a cigarette from his pocket and started to light it, but looked at Ascera in askance. "Do you mind?"

"Go right ahead," she allowed, "but be sure to put it out when we take off. You we're saying?"

"Oh, right." The professor took a deep drag and expelled a puff of smoke. "Well, Master Skywalker learned about my research and started funding a great deal of it. I figure his sister, Councilor Organa Solo, had a hand in that. For some reason, I don't imagine the Jedi being all that wealthy. Anyway, Master Skywalker wants a copy of my research. Since he's a Jedi, I figured it would be all right. He could put it to better use than me. But looks like other people want my research as well."

Ascera sat back in her seat, absorbing the conversation. "Don't worry, Doctor Shemza. We'll get you to Master Skywalker safely." Information about the old Jedi Order—about those heroes she found so amazing and godlike. That was something she and the professor shared, a deep reverence for the old protectors of peace and justice.

Suddenly, Ran's blue-cloaked frame splayed itself on the transparisteel viewport. He rapped on the hatch, which Ascera opened. The limber human slipped into the pilot's seat, buckled in, and put the ship into full throttle. "Doctor Shemza," he greeted merrily, "you're pursuers won't be bothering you now!"

The professor sighed again. "Thank you, young man."

Ascera gave Ran a sharp look. "You didn't kill them, did you?" she inquired, remembering the screams of the Rodians.

Ran laughed. "Of course not. I just scared them a little. Deflected a few blaster bolts into their weapons, blew them right apart. They won't be using their hands for a few days and I scared the daylights out of them, but other than that, they're hale as banthas."

They flew out into the stars, which soon stretched into the all-too-familiar blue-white of hyperspace. Ascera tried not to groan.

* * *

Ascera heard Ran curse loudly when they dropped out of hyperspace two minutes later. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Her companion was busily working across his control panel, pulling his controls out of automatic lock and calibrating the ship's sensors. Working as he was, he only absently replied, "Something's pulling us out of hyperspace. It has to be an interdiction field of some kind, but mere bounty hunters wouldn't be carrying that kind of hardware, would they?"

Suddenly, red-yellow light splashed across the viewport and Ascera grunted as the ship trembled in response. "Ran, get our shields up!" He did not reply, but his supple fingers danced across the panel. The splashes of blaster fire were soon outlined in the soft blue-green of energy shielding.

"Ascera, play navigator," Ran ordered, sending the starfighter into a sharp barrel roll. "I'm picking up three…no, four. Four snub fighters."

"What kind?"

"Don't know yet. Give me a minute."

Ascera thumbed on her own console. "Never mind that. I'll handle scanners and weapons; you just keep us flying. Doctor, how are you with astrogation?"

Shemza seemed startled at being addressed in a combat situation. Ascera heard him shuffle about in his crash webbing, and his voice was strained with tension. "Um, I can do the calculations, if you'd like," he replied timidly.

"Do them," she said simply. "If we're going to get out of this, we need an exit. Ran, fly us out of that interdictor field. I'll hold them off."

Ran took her words to heart, and sent the tiny starship into the most punishing maneuvers he could perform. Ascera gasped in surprise and tried to hold down her breakfast. She had not known that her friend had learned tricks like that. A series of blips on her screen drew her attention from her own discomfort. "Three fighters—all outmoded Headhunters—coming up seven o' clock."

The starfighter flipped over—Ascera fought back a lurch of her stomach—and righted itself behind the Headhunters. Seizing the opportunity, the Twi'lek regained her composure and fired the ship's lasers. Red streaks of energy split through the shielding and hull of one of the Headhunters; the crippled attack ship veered off and disengaged.

"How many are out there, anyway?" Ran inquired, strangely calm despite the chaos of a space battle. Ascera briefly wondered how he could retain that level of composure in a fight.

She glanced over at her screen. "Excluding the one that fled, I read six total: two Headhunters ahead, three A-Nines, and one TIE Interceptor. Looks like quite the pirate complement. A mix of military and fast ships. They came prepared."

Ran spun into a wild roll, blaster bolts slicing by the viewport; the interior lights in the cockpit started blinking a dull red. "Damn it!" he swore sharply, "the shields just gave out. Are we out of the interdictor field yet?"

"Fly straight head," Ascera said, "that's the limit of the field." She looked over her shoulder. "Doctor, how are we doing on calculations?"

The professor, she saw, was engrossed in his work, typing frantically across a keyboard with two onboard calculators streaming with numbers. "Give me three more minutes," he replied absently.

"You have one and a half," Ran told him grimly. The starfighter shuddered. "Make that fifty seconds. That last hit knocked something loose."

Ascera switched her screen from scanner to diagnostic. "Stabilizer was hit hard and our inertial compensator's almost had it."

"Well," Ran muttered as an aside, "you'll be feeling ten pounds lighter without having to exercise—just like you always wanted."

"Ran, remind me to strangle you when this is over."

Despite their predicament, her friend laughed. Another ship-shaking blast cut his mirth short. "Ascera," he said, serious once again, "dump all power from life support and weapons into engines. I don't care if we overload them. Give me enough boost to buy us thirty seconds."

"Understood." Two switches and a button later, the interior lights shut off. The cockpit was thrown into darkness. "Hit it, Ran!" The starfighter lurched and Ascera had to grit her teeth to keep from throwing up.

"Finished!" Shemza announced proudly a scant few moments later.

"Punch it, Ran!"

Ran hit a button and pulled a lever.

* * *

Five days later, Ascera and Ran were lying against the mossy side of the Jedi academy. Ran had his arms behind his head, as usual, with his knees crossed and one foot dangling in the air. Ascera was more conservative, lying flat with her hands folded over her belly.

It was a cool afternoon. Yavin Four was moving into a winter cycle. Ascera breathed in the air that always brought to mind the color of green. If green had a smell, she thought, this would be it. It was peaceful on Yavin, with not hyperspace lines, no strange old men, and no bounty hunters. There were just the trees, the air, and the quiet.

"How long have Master Skywalker and Shemza been talking?" Ran asked, breaking the silence.

Ascera groaned inwardly. "Leave it to you to ruin a nice day," she muttered.

"What'd I do this time?" he asked innocently.

She sighed. "Sorry, I was just enjoying the silence, that's all. As to your question, they've been in his office for about…oh…seven hours now."

"Oh." Ran blinked. "And you're not the least bit curious about what they're talking about?"

"Of course I'm curious, but it's not my place to pry. This is Jedi Master business."

Ran grinned impishly. "But you _know_ you want to eavesdrop. I can tell; you're practically brimming in the Force with curiosity." He sat up suddenly, hastily. With a wicked and mischievous gleam in his too-bright green eyes, he said invitingly, "Want to?"

"Ran!" Ascera was mortified. "No! It isn't our place to get involved. If Master Skywalker wants us to know, he'll let us know. That's all there is to it." Her words rang hollow in her own ears, even if they were sensible. She _was_ curious, terribly curious. But, she reminded herself firmly, curiosity gets the early worm eaten by the early bird. Jedi are open to knowledge, but they are not foolish enough to cross the border into stupidity for the sake of whimsical interest.

But her human friend only smirked in such a way that she found herself groaning. "Well, I guess I'll be doing it alone, then." He leaped to his feet, smiling broadly, and darted down the side of the academy, brushing leaves and vines away from his face.

Ascera's groan deepened and, much against her better judgement, she stood up and pursued. "Damn it, Ran, you're going to get us both in _so_ much trouble!" she hissed under her breath. But her heart of hearts resonated with Ran's actions—what _were_ Master Skywalker and Doctor Shemza talking about? she wondered.

They dashed through the halls of the academy, zigzagging past startled Jedi Knights and students alike, leaving them confused in their wake. Ascera sent looks of apology to each of them, but focused most of her attention on keeping up with Ran. Both of them could use the Force to give them a brief burst of speed, but Ran, she knew, was much more adept at it.

They came to a skidding halt by Master Skywalker's office. Ran raised a finger to his lips and Ascera nodded briefly. He kneeled by the door and pressed his ear against it. The Twi'lek suppressed a scoffing sniff at his mundane method. The Force was their ally, after all. She closed her eyes and fell within herself, immersing herself in the swirling energies of the galaxy's web. Her senses became keener, wider, farther-reaching.

In tune with the life energies around her, she could hear a group of students three rooms down practicing with lightsabers, the hum of their blades resonating with the songs of birds outside the academy walls, which were contrasting sharply with the soft bubbling of a pot of stew in the kitchen, which further accented the soft thrumming of starship engines in the hangar….

She could hear all of it as if she were right there in each room and walkway—but she could not hear beyond the office door. It was as if nothing existed beyond, an emptiness that surprised her with its frightfulness. All things were in the Force, all things but what lay within Master Skywalker's room.

The door suddenly swung open and Ran, leaning against it was he was, tumbled forwards and into Master Skywalker's legs. Ascera felt her stomach rise up to her throat.

"Ascera, Ran," Master Skywalker intoned with still gravity. He leveled a disappointed look at both of them. "Care to explain what you are doing?"

The question was rhetorical, Ascera knew. But she suspected it was pedagogical was well, teaching them to take responsibility for their actions. Though she could appreciate the subtlety, she _did not_ appreciate being in the predicament. She mentally vowed to kill Ran later, dark side or no. "We…we were wondering what you and Doctor Shemza were discussing, Master Skywalker," she replied as steadily and calmly as she could. She hoped her downcast expression was appropriately humble.

Ran righted himself and stood, brushing his robes with one hand while scratching the back of his head with the other. He tried to appear nonchalant, but Ascera noted the uneasiness in his stance. No matter how many times he found himself in trouble, he never seemed to grow accustomed to punishment. Ascera sighed.

Master Skywalker seemed to remember all the other instances of Ran's truancy as well, for he sent a disciplinarian's stare at him. "Ran Tonno-Skeve, how many times have I had to talk to you about curbing that insatiable curiosity of yours?"

"Um, seven this month, Master," the human youth replied quietly.

"Make this eight. There is nothing wrong with wanting to learn, Ran. You know this well; I've told you more than enough times." Master Skywalker sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But only controlled curiosity that knows when to ask the right questions will yield the answers you desire. Eavesdropping won't. As for you," and he turned that strict gaze upon Ascera, "I expected better of you, Ascera Dax."

She dropped her head lower. "I apologize, Master. It won't happen again." She inwardly added: Because I'm going to kill Ran myself for this!

Master Skywalker sighed again. "Since you're so inquisitive, I suppose it's all right to let you in on the conversation. Come on in."

Surprised at their luck, the two young Jedi entered with a mixture of trepidation and anxiety. "Master," Ascera spoke, "when I tried to…um…eavesdrop, I expanded my senses with the Force. But I was unable to extend them into your office. Why?"

"It's essentially a variation on hiding yourself in the Force, but by creating a 'Force-negative bubble,'" he explained. "Its similar to what the yslamiri on Myrkr do. One of the other students, a capable young lady around your age named De-Lanna Tamaran, discovered it." Ascera tried not to grimace; she had met the haughty girl on several occasions and found her self-important attitude only barely tolerable. Master Skywalker continued, "Some of the other Masters and I have been trying to perfect her technique." He indicated a broad square table, at one edge of which sat Shemza. "Please, have a seat, you two."

Once all were settled in, Master Skywalker turned to the professor. "Doctor, it seems your rescuers can barely suppress their desire to learn. They wish to know more about your research." Ascera flushed a dull pink of embarrassment; she noted that Ran sank deep into his seat, trying to hide.

Shemza seemed oblivious to their discomfiture. He simply shrugged and took out a set of datapads. "Well, I'm glad to see that academia is so highly regarded by even the youth of the Jedi. Um, where to begin? I know!" He cleared his throat noisily, apparently preparing to launch into a lecture. "As I told you two on that space station, my research was mostly based around the Jedi Temple on Mathassi, a forgotten planet the Jedi Knights visited when the Old Republic was still at the height of its power."

Ascera leaned forward, elbows on the table and her chin nestling on her linked fingers. Her embarrassment forgotten, she gave her full attention to the professor. She loved hearing tales of the Jedi when she was younger and enjoyed even more the stories of Luke Skywalker and his many adventures in maintaining peace and justice throughout the galaxy. To hear of the old Jedi Order was the culmination of her admiration for the ancient brotherhood she had joined.

Shemza spoke of the Mathassi Temple, of how the old texts called it a masterpiece of art and beauty, a true symbol of the Jedi. Indeed, Shemza had said with no small amount of awe, the Jedi Temple had been designed as a physical representation of what it meant to be a Jedi Knight. Ascera found that she had been holding her breath during Shemza's lecture, and she slowly released it. To see such a place, she thought wonderingly, that would be a dream come true.

Master Skywalker's voice brought her back to reality. "Doctor Shemza managed to recover the coordinates of Mathassi. If the Temple still stands, it is imperative that someone investigate it, check out any predators in the area, and ascertain if there is anything of value still within. Hopefully, there's something that can teach us about the old Jedi Order within the Temple's halls."

Ascera spoke vigorously, "Master! Please, send me!" Her outburst caught Ran by surprise, for her friend's green eyes widened to thrice their previous size. She ignored his shock, though in truth, she felt the same. Ascera Dax did not act on impulse! She noted, though, that Master Skywalker seemed unfazed by her unexpected energy.

"All right," he said simply.

"What?" Ascera mumbled dumbly, not actually expecting him to comply so readily.

A kind smile tugged the corners of Master Skywalker's mouth. "You're clearly interested in the subject, Ascera, and that drive is precisely what a Jedi should have when going on a mission. Not only that, but you're a bright girl with an appreciation for history. You'd be an ideal candidate for this task. But," and he raised a finger at this, "you will not be traveling alone." The finger leveled on Ran, who sat up straight in his chair. "You will be going with her, Ran."

Ran's face set into seriousness, which seemed an alien expression on him to Ascera's mind. "Of course, Master. Where Ascera goes, so do I." He threw a wink at her. "I mean, after all, someone's got to get her in trouble." The Twi'lek only sighed through her nose at his irreverence.

Master Skywalker apparently found him amusing, for her chuckled under his breath. "There will be one more coming with you, if you don't mind. I mentioned De-Lanna Tamaran. I think this would be a good experience for her."

Ascera nodded, a mixture of feelings swirling within her. She had a mission, one that was hers in spirit—a quest to learn more about the old Jedi whom she found so heroic. Unbridled joy swelled within her, only to be dampened by the thought that she would be adventuring with a tart.

Ran must have sensed her turmoil, for he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiled and grasped his forearm in thanks. Even if De-Lanna Tamaran was the most irritating girl she knew, there was at least Ran—the only one in the galaxy who could be even remotely more annoying.


	2. Shadowed Domain, Ch 2

**Chapter Two: Congregation**

"I suppose the first thing we should do is find De-Lanna," Ran said absently as he and Ascera left Master Skywalker's office. "You know, I've heard a lot about her, but never met her."

His Twi'lek companion sighed, her headtails quivering with barely-tempered frustration. "She's ingratiating. She thinks too highly of herself, in my opinion."

"She can't be all that bad. I mean, she's a Jedi like us."

"Right, but you're just cocky. She's worse—she's arrogant, pushy, and far too overconfident. She's like you: she doesn't have the sense to back down from a fight she can't win. De-Lanna would keep fighting just to prove to everyone that she can."

Ran scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Is she cute?"

His friend threw a scathing glare at him. "That's irrelevant, and you know it." Her look softened. "But I appreciate you trying to lighten the situation."

He chuckled. "No problem, Ascera. But really, is she all that bad of a person? The Jedi Masters speak highly of her, you know."

"And that only makes it worse."

"Is that jealousy I feel the Force?" he goaded lightly. "The great De-Lanna Tamaran, who discovers secret Jedi techniques just by dipping her hand into the sand. Where others find rocks, she finds gold." He danced ahead of Ascera, throwing his cloak and robes in wide arcs, accentuating his grand words with even grander, flamboyant actions.

Ascera laughed at his antics, and he knew that he had successfully diffused her budding ire. "Yeah, something like that. Come on, idiot, let's get this over with. If I know De-Lanna, she'll be at the gymnasium showing off her latest lightsaber forms."

"Even the great general and tactics-master Antimodes Descrier of Tauun knew when to rein his pride and listen to his aides," the green-eyed Jedi said sagely, an academic finger in the air, "and this was how he made his many victories!"

They indeed found their future traveling companion on the training floor, lightsaber blazing in her hands. Younger students sat against the walls, watching her in mesmerized awe. Ran leaned against the doorframe, joining them in their rapt study of De-Lanna Tamaran.

The first thing he noticed was the lightsaber. He wondered what kind of crystal she used to obtain a pure-white blade. The second thing he noticed was her. De-Lanna Tamaran was beautiful. Her pert, round face was tight with concentration, blue eyes the only indication of her inner fire, like young stars hinting at the spirit within. That entrancing, pale face was accented further by rich, glossy brown hair, lighter in shade than Ran's, but striking nonetheless. Pulled back into a tight ponytail, the hair made her seem younger and more innocent, but it was only a facade. Even though she could be no older than Ran or Ascera, she had a physical maturity and bearing that made her seem more experienced, more controlled than anyone else in the room. Ran found himself whistling in quiet appreciation.

His impropriety did not go unnoticed. Ascera elbowed him, hard, and some of the other students looked over at him in shocked mortification. Doubtless they thought him uncouth.

The whistle also shook De-Lanna's concentration, and she abruptly ended her exercise. Those fiery blue eyes slashed through the room, searching, until they landed on Ran. He deflected the angry glare with his usual irreverence, smirking winningly at her. He did not need the Force to tell that his grin only sparked her to greater indignation.

"Even though I'm not terribly fond of her," Ascera whispered to him, "that doesn't mean you should try goading her like this. That's like baiting acklays."

"As I recall," he replied easily, keeping his eyes on the enchanting De-Lanna, "I survived doing that, and so did you. I know what I'm doing."

"Sure you do." His friend sighed in resignation. "It's your funeral."

Boldly, with all the cockiness he could put into his stride, Ran walked up to De-Lanna and offered her a friendly, open hand. She looked at it once before decorum and protocol forced her to accept the hand with a stiff shake. "I'm Ran Tonno-Skeve," he said heartily. "I believe you already know my friend over there, Ascera Dax."

He saw De-Lanna toss a brief glimpse Ascera's way and just was quickly disregarded her. "We've met," she replied in a lilting voice. The accent reminded him of the peaceful world of Naboo. "I take it you're here about the mission to Mathassi."

He nodded. "I just wanted to get to know the third member of our little party."

"Well, you've seen me in action. Do I meet your specifications?" Her voice was mocking, hard.

Ran had a fairly accurate fix on her personality just from her speech pattern. For someone who tried to hold herself above everyone else, she was remarkably easy to read. She was skilled and she knew it, but Ran could sense that her arrogance was trying to hide something. Ran understood this well, for he was like that on more than one occasion, much to Ascera's exasperation and annoyance. But he tended to act with flair and unconcern, even recklessness. De-Lanna Tamaran instead had steely confidence and methodical care that hinted at much more complex puzzle beneath the imperious exterior.

He smiled, putting as much eagerness and warmth into it was he could. An idea flew into his head, a way to break the ice. "I like to test drive my starships before buying them," he said with a lewd wink, letting his bright green eyes wander up and down her athletic body, taking in the budding curves that her humble dueling outfit could not hide. A new level of indignation was plain on De-Lanna's round face.

Ran ignited his lightsaber, the sudden movement catching her off-guard and forcing her to take a small jump back. "I was just looking to see how muscular you were, De-Lanna," he assured her with a roguish grin. "I'm a fighter myself. Care to dance a bit?"

To her credit, the brown-haired Jedi recovered from her surprise quickly. A white blade sliced the air with a resonating hum. She said nothing, instead letting her actions speak for her. They circled one another, blades in neutral stance. Ran kept up his lopsided grin and waited. His opponent's face was smooth this time, blue eyes trained on his green ones, watching for the least movement.

Ran deliberately blinked.

Just as he knew she would, De-Lanna jumped on the apparent opening, slashing hard—but she caught nothing but air; Ran had ducked her the swing of her blade and came up behind her. He spun his lightsaber in a tight arc, aiming for her underarm. The sound of hissing lightsabers was all he received. He resumed his assault, striking high, low, high, low, and middle with a final thrust. Each was parried with deft ease.

The green-eyed Jedi was starting to feel the rhythm of the fight. De-Lanna seemed to have an overriding desire to prove herself to anyone watching. Every one of her attacks and blocks were focused, inflexible, much like her personality, or so he imagined. Ran recognized a lot of himself in her fighting style and thought he knew how to beat her. He waited for her head-on attack.

She obligingly gave it, charging with a battle cry. The white blade slashed down for his head and he made to slip to the side to counter. But then he slipped, his boot stumbling on an uneven section of the floor that he had not noticed before. His footing was gone and he struggled to regain his balance, but by then a white blade of light hummed by his ear.

Ran raised his hands helplessly. "Well, that didn't quite go the way I expected," he said cheerily.

De-Lanna smiled at him grimly, an unpleasant expression but a smile nonetheless. "That is my Nexus technique, a trick I developed when I was only a little girl," she proudly announced. "I envision an outcome that I want and it happens. Such as beating you." The last verbal barb was her winning stroke, but Ran took it in stride, still maintaining his grin.

Breaking her silence, Ascera spoke from the doorway, "But the future is always in motion. How is such a thing possible?"

The brown-haired Jedi turned an imperious glance her way. "The Nexus technique requires that I impose my will on a moment of the future, which ensures that it occurs as I wish. Of course, there are limitations to the ability." She said the last reluctantly, as if she were surrendering a great secret that displeased her. "More crucial events are more difficult to ensure, and there is the risk of failure in every attempt."

"Um, De-Lanna, do you mind taking that away from my head?" Ran asked, arching an eyebrow at the blazing white blade. It was immediately extinguished. "Thank you." He clipped his own lightsaber to his belt. "Anyway, its clear that you're a capable fighter with…some interesting…talents." He noticed how she swelled at that.

Ascera must have as well, for she spoke tightly and with great control over a quickly-rising temper that shone in the Force like a bonfire. "We should be going. Mathassi is a very long journey." Ran felt a resigned disgruntlement from his friend through the Force. He felt a similar emotion from De-Lanna. Neither Jedi found an extended hyperspace journey with the other appealing.

"This is going to be a long trip," he muttered, finally letting his grin fall away.

* * *

"Where are you going?" De-Lanna demanded, looking at the star charts and navigation array. "This isn't the way to Mathassi. We're heading Coreward!"

"Settle down, De-Lanna," Ascera said from the co-pilot's seat. "Ran knows what he's doing. After all, he's the one who was trained as a pilot, not you." Ran heard the venom in her voice and sighed. There were few people beside himself who could raise such barely suppressed hostility from his friend. Every other word passed between the females hid a vicious barb at each other's pride. That had been the agenda for the past three long days in hyperspace. It started to gnaw on even Ran's carefree demeanor, and he was growing sick of it.

De-Lanna accepted Ascera's stab with quiet dignity. "All right, explain to me why we're heading Coreward."

"A trip to an unknown world might require skills that Jedi don't have," Ran explained. "Despite what I may say or do, even I know that I'm not invincible by myself, right Ascera?"

The Twi'lek only harrumphed. "So I've been telling you since we were in diapers. As if you listen."

He chuckled. "Anyway, I figure if I want to be an invincible Jedi Knight, I'd better start surrounding myself with people who can fill in for my weaknesses. Every good fighter knows that he's got to cover his weak spots. That's where we're going."

"To cover our weak spots?" De-Lanna sounded confused.

"Right. I know few friends on the Core Worlds who might be able to help us out."

Ascera groaned loudly. "Don't tell me you're bringing that walking carpet with us!" At Ran's nod, she moaned all the louder. "But he _smells_!"

"But he knows his way around forests," he countered, "and according to Doctor Shemza, Mathassi is a forest planet. And besides, wherever our 'walking carpet' goes, so does Carson, and you know how good he is with a blaster."

Ran suspected that De-Lanna was thoroughly confused by the conversation and waited for the inevitable exasperated outburst. "Who are you talking about?" the brown-haired Jedi demanded, doubtlessly feeling left out.

"Borworken is a Wookiee we met while traveling through the Anduul Star Cluster," Ran said. He smiled as he remembered his first meeting with the short, lanky shipjacker. As he recalled, Borworken almost killed him that time. "He's a good mechanic and a fair pilot, but he's even better at scouting out terrain. He used to be a hunter on his homeworld of Kashyyyk, so he knows his way around the woodlands very well."

"And this Carson?"

"An ex-Imperial stormtrooper," jumped in Ascera. "After the fall of Grand Admiral Thrawn, he became a mercenary. He helped us fight off some space bandits who were camping out on Wataro Four's trade lanes. Borworken owes him a life-debt, and that's why if we find one, we'll find the other."

De-Lanna sat back in her seat, silent. Ran felt her thoughtfulness in the Force; he grew curious. "What's the matter?" he pressed gently.

The brown-haired Jedi made a surprised sound at being brought from her reverie. "I was thinking. It sounds like the two of you have been on several missions already. I found that interesting."

"Oh? Why?" Ascera asked, her curiosity also piqued.

"This is my first mission." Ran sensed her discomfort at that admission. She continued, "The Jedi Masters kept me at the academy since I first began my training. They wanted me to perfect my Nexus technique rather than go on adventures like some of the other Jedi. I imagine that Master Skywalker wanted me to pass on my skill to others—so that they can go on missions while I have to stay and teach."

There was such disappointment in her tone that Ran turned his attention from flying to study her round face. Ran's skills in the Force were very instinctual; he did not have Ascera's fine control. What his instincts told him was that De-Lanna wore the armor of arrogance to hide her own fears. In that regard, they were kindred spirits. "For what it's worth," he said with such grave sincerity that even Ascera turned to look at him in surprise, "I think you'd be pretty good on missions."

He saw De-Lanna blink, clearly taken aback by the empathy in his words. "Thank you, Ran," she said simply. She settled into her chair and quieted.

A series of blinking lights on the consoles brought Ran's attention back to the task at hand. "I'm dropping us out of hyperspace," he said. He matched words with actions, lowering a lever. The stretched streaks of starlight returned to shining pinpricks. "There it is," he muttered grimly. "Star Town Station."

Dominating the viewport in all its illicit glory was an amalgam of docking bays, orbital platforms, and artificial atmospheric domes welded together into a mocking semblance of civilization. Star Town Station was only a short hyperspace jump from the polluted world of Duro, but the lonely space station could provide what few locales could in the Core World region: sanctuary for the criminal.

"What is this place?" De-Lanna inquired, taking in the metal monstrosity with a mixture of wide-eyed wonder and disgust.

"Just what it looks like," Ascera answered with clear distaste. "It's the worst of society among the best of society. But this is the place we can expect to find Carson Rehf and Borworken; they wouldn't be overly welcome anywhere else in the Core, Carson especially."

Ran thumbed on the communication system. "Star Town port authority, this is the transport ship _Gray Obex_. Request permission to dock."

"Permission granted _Obex_," a grainy, bored voice responded. "You may dock at bay X7-5B."

"Copy that." Ran hung up the communicator and brought the ship through its landing procedures.

Minutes later, the Jedi trio walked down the landing ramp, breathing in the stale recycled air of the space station. They saw a docking officer standing before the entrance to the station proper, prim and commanding in his pressed dark blue uniform. "Welcome travelers," the he greeted in officious tones. "Docking is a hundred-credit fee, if you wish to enter the station. This includes refueling for your vessel. Otherwise, I will have to confine you to the docking bay without refueling opportunities."

Ran turned to Ascera and winked mischievously, to which she just sighed. He waved a hand in front of the officer. "I don't need to pay the fee."

The officer responded perfunctorily, "You don't need to pay the fee. Please, accept the hospitality of Star Town." With that, he left for a nearby office.

"The Force should not be used for such pettiness," De-Lanna lectured sharply. "This demeans the both the Force and you. You should be ashamed."

Ran only laughed. "Whatever you say, mother." The miffed look on her face only made him laugh harder. "As Ascera can no doubt tell you, telling me not to do something isn't very effective."

"Then you're just being foolish," the brown-haired Jedi retorted.

He shrugged. "Maybe, but even a fool can be wise, or so I've been told. Hopefully, I'll fall into that category. If not, I'll just be the most unremembered Jedi ever." He strode down the ramp and into the station proper. He could feel De-Lanna's gaping look of disbelief boring into his back and heard Ascera say to her, "Ran's an idiot, so his arguments only make sense to him; pay him no mind." He tried vainly to suppress a chuckle.

His mirth was quickly cut when his green gaze settled on the dingy disrepute of Star Town. The last time he came here with Ascera, his stomach twisted in knots at the moral effrontery he had found. It was doing the same thing now and he tried not to cringe.

It was still a vile place, with recycled air that held the aromatic tint of despair. It was a sensation he had felt so often as a child, one that wracked his dreams and made him toss and turn in fright. Coming to this place last time brought him such dark anger that it shocked him to the core. He thought that he had a firm grip on the reins of those emotions. But the dark anger was still there, gnawing at him. Star Town—and all places like it, where the unfortunate wallow in gutters while those only slightly better than they die slowly in their dilapidated apartments—summoned all of those old evils in him.

He remembered with bitter vividness the sorry apartment he and his mother, a prostitute to a vile Hutt lord, had lived in, which was even worse than the complexes in Star Town. He shivered and shook his head, trying to clear away the haunting memories. There was a warm touch on his shoulder as Ascera laid a comforting, understanding hand. She knew about his mother.

"Perhaps it would have been better if we just went to Mathassi alone," she whispered.

He shook his head. "No, we need Carson and Borworken. Don't worry, I've got it under control."

Her eyes narrowed crossly. "No, you don't. But you're right, so let's just find those two and get out of here, all right?"

"All right." He smiled weakly. "Thanks Ascera." She smiled back at him.

* * *

The three Jedi stood before the entrance to the Gateway, a local drinking dive. Smells of smoke, hookah, and all manner of beverage wafted from its half-open windows. Ran tried not to gag; he was not a drinking person himself, and just the smell of the vile melange brought tears to his eyes. "This was the place, right?" he asked Ascera.

The Twi'lek nodded. "Carson used to get his jobs here."

De-Lanna turned her nose imperiously. "Can we be certain that this Carson Rehf is the kind of person we want to associate with? If his taste in alehouses is anything to go by, he's probably an old man who can't get his glory days behind him."

"You'd be right about that," Ran agreed, "but he's got the skills to back up his words. Come on." He led the way into the dimly lit bar, taking care to keep his lightsaber hidden and motioning his female companions to do the same. This close to the Core Worlds meant that more people would recognize a Jedi when they saw one, and that would not do. Ran did not so easily forget the bounty hunters that had attacked Doctor Shemza.

Ran was not a clever person, but even he could see the implications of someone hiring a hit squad to capture or kill a man doing research on the Jedi. The fact that they were bounty hunters only meant that places like the Gateway might be a nest for potential assailants. So he took stock of the sentient beings around him: a few Rodians drinking in a corner, a quarto of Aqualish trying their hand at pazaak, a Zabrak and two Twi'leks whispering in low tones over a dish of fried worms. None seemed out of place, but all set off Ran's danger senses. The fact that every one of them carried some manner of weapon—a blaster, a knife, or a stun baton—only heightened his wariness.

Ascera, who had been through just as many wild adventures as he had, moved with the same level of alertness. She seemed passive, calm, oblivious to all around her from the drunk Ithorian on the bar to the Twi'lek dancing girls on the tables. But Ran saw the movement of her eyes, the way her hand kept close to her belt—and her lightsaber. Her caution set him at ease.

But De-Lanna was another matter. Inexperienced in such a setting, she walked with open confidence, though she had the good sense to hide her lightsaber under her cloak like Ascera. "So, where is this Carson Rehf and his Wookiee companion?" she asked. A few heads turned at the sound of the names, and Ran heard Ascera curse in low tones.

"Please be discreet," the Twi'lek whispered harshly into De-Lanna's ear. "We don't want to attract too much attention; a stormtrooper and his pet carpet aren't exactly welcome this close to the Core."

"We'll let you know when we see them," Ran told the brown-haired Jedi in kinder tones. "Ascera, you and De-Lanna find us a seat. I'll look around. That way we won't look like we're obviously looking for someone." The females agreed and took a booth in a dark corner. Ran went to work.

He found the rough-bearded Carson Rehf slouched against a wall in a corner table, with Borworken nursing a mug of something potent. It had been several months since Ran last saw them, but aside from a thicker growth of facial hair, Carson looked much the same, as did his Wookiee companion.

Ran stood in front of their table, hands on his belt. "Hello, guys. Long time no see." Borworken growled nastily at him and flashed yellowed teeth. The green-eyed Jedi raised open hands defensively. "Don't give me that, Borworken. I mean, we're all still friends, right? Right?" Ran gathered the Force around him, ready to placate the fierce Wookiee with soothing energies if he had to.

Carson, still leaning against the wall, mumbled in his gravelly, drunken tone, "Leave 'im be, furball. 'e ain't worth killin'. And remember, 'e's a Jedi. And Jedi don't talk to scumbags like us without wantin' to pay for it. And they pay good."

"I'm glad you think so highly of me, Carson," Ran replied easily, bowing low and fancifully, even going so far as to raise the tail of his cloak. The sight was a mixture of respect and mockery. "And since you've no doubt guessed at the depths of the Jedi Order's coffers, I will be happy to pay you your usual fee for your excellent services."

The burly warrior drew himself up, sniffed long and hard, and spat onto the floor near Ran's boot. "Look 'ere, Jedi boy," he growled in low tones, raising a thick, callused finger at him, "I ain't gonna be taken in by your tricks like last time. You want me to kill Imperials, I'll kill Imperials. You want me to kill Mandalorians, I'll kill Mandalorians. But I want to see those creds up front. All in advance."

"But Carson, buddy, credits are hard to come by these days, especially for Jedi! We're aesthetic people, you know." Ran mentally swore. He had nowhere near Carson's fee on him; the best he could manage was half, and he was hoping to resort to their typical half-up-front, half-later arrangement. "How about three-quarters now, one-quarter later?" He figured that he could sell some of the extra food rations on their ship to make up for the difference.

But Carson shook his head. "No go, boy. I remember the last mission when you hired me and my buddy Borworken here. Fifty battle droids, thirty stormtroopers, and a really angry Imperial warlord. I ain't sticking my neck out for those odds again. I'm Mandalorian, not Corellian, so odds are odds." He made a dismissive gesture with his thick hands. "So you pay me all up front, plus room and board, or you're missin' out on a blaster monkey."

Ran saw that both mercenaries would be unbending. He sighed and agreed to their terms. "I don't have the money right now, but I'll sell some stuff on my ship. Your payment will be waiting on docking bay X7-5B."

"Docking bay X7-5B," the burly warrior repeated, nodding. He lifted his mug toward the Jedi. "A pleasure doing business with you, Ran." With a deep drink, the meeting between allies was over. Or should have been. Ran knew that despite his perpetual stupor, Carson was always on the alert, and his wariness was proven once again: "Hey, Jedi boy, look over there," he whispered, tilting his head to one side.

Ran followed the motion and cursed at what he saw. A quintet of Rodians walked into the bar, blaster rifles slung over their shoulders, but far too close to their reach for Ran's comfort. "Bounty hunters," the green-eyed Jedi surmised. "They look like the ones who ambushed me and my friends a few days ago."

Carson let out a whistle of respect. "You're getting better at fighting if you survived a scuffle with them. Those are the Zoddo clan. Tough monkey-lizards and real hardcore about the hunt. They are priced at six figures."

"They aren't so skilled that they should cost that much," Ran muttered, remembering how soundly he defeated the clan earlier. "But trouble in this town would be a bad thing. Meet me at docking bay X7-5B in three hours." Ran turned and headed for Ascera and De-Lanna's table. He pointed out the Zoddo bounty hunters, and the three of them left the bar with their faces hidden beneath the low cowls of their cloaks.

Three hours later, Ran had the funds—though he had to sell more than he had intended—and when he returned to the docking bay with his fully-loaded credstick, he found Carson and Borworken waiting for him. Ascera and De-Lanna were standing on the ship's landing ramp, eyeing both mercenaries with open wariness. A sigh escaped Ran, for he had the sinking feeling that the trip was going to be much longer than he expected.

Without preamble, the green-eyed Jedi tossed the credstick to Carson, who caught it with deftness that belied his graying hair and fifty-odd years. "That's everything," Ran said perfunctorily. "Ten thousand credits, all in advance."

The burly warrior checked the counter on the credstick and smiled widely. He slipped it into his belt pouch. "Thanks, boy. Now, let's get this show on the road. If the Zoddo are looking for you, I know a way to get us out of the system without them noticing. Borworken," he turned to the lanky Wookiee, "plot in the coordinates for the Ysella Run." The shipjacker nodded, and lumbered into the ship, heading for the cockpit. Ran followed him; they may be working together, but Ran was the better pilot. And besides, he did not trust the two mercenaries farther than he could throw them.

He overheard De-Lanna voice her concerns to Ascera, "Do we really have to work with them?" she asked, "they are hardly altruistic. They practically radiate selfishness in the Force!" Though her tone was confident and calm, the disgust and apprehension she truly felt was apparent in the Force, and Ran felt it fully.

Concerns and anxieties aside, Ran knew that there were no better people at what they did than Carson and Borworken. Ran may not trust them, but he could rely on them to handle any mission. At the moment, that was his only concern. The self-reassurance did little to assuage his worry, though. He set the ship into its launch cycle to settle his nerves.

"Launching in three seconds," he reported. The lanky Wookiee, sitting next to him in the navigator's seat, howled. "Yes, Borworken," Ran said, understanding the language of the Wookiees with passing proficiency, "I'm flying the ship. It's my ship, after all." Another howl. "No, it doesn't have anything to do with trusting you," he lied, "but thanks for offering. Anyway, transfer that Ysella Run of yours to my console. I want to see the star charts myself."

His screen flickered on with a little-known trade route glowing on it. Ran whistled appreciatively. "How'd you guys get this? Never mind, I don't want to know." He was impressed. According to the maps, the Ysella Run was a smuggling route that dodged the space station's sensors by flying directly under them—which involved flybys right across the station itself. It was a risky flight path, as one false move would crash a ship right into the station's hull. But he thought he could perform the necessary maneuvers.

Ran opened the internal communication system. "All right, people," he called, "buckle down. It's going to be a rough flight." He wiped sweaty palms against his thighs, grasped the control sticks, and hit the engines.

* * *

The Ysella Run had kept them unnoticed by any sensor relay, effectively throwing off the Zoddo, but Ran made sure to accelerate to lightspeed as soon as he could, jumping twice just to be safe. An hour after leaving Star Town Station, Ran engaged the autopilot systems and freed himself from his chair. He stretched, threw his hands behind his head, and stared out the viewport into the swirling blue-white lights of hyperspace.

"Come on, Borworken," he said cheerfully to the lanky Wookiee sitting grumpily in the navigator's seat, "let's ditch this place and find something fun to do. You don't like me, and I can't say I much like you, but we have a good long trip of hyperspace boredom to look forward to. We can't be enemies forever." Ran had the most disarming and winning smile on his face, but the Wookiee seemed unfazed. The furry visage only scowled at him. Ran sighed and gave up, walking into the ship lounge alone.

There he found Ascera playing cards with Carson. There was an unfriendly aura of diehard competition arcing between them, and the intensity of it surprised Ran. "What game is that?" the green-eyed Jedi asked cautiously, wary of sparking an explosion, so volatile seemed the situation.

"It's a new game called Kapras," the Twi'lek answered, hiding her competitiveness under typical Jedi calm. She laid down a yellow-and-blue-striped card with careful grace. "It has more strategy to it than sabaac and less randomness than pazaak. It's an invigorating game." She set down another card, a solid red one.

The burly warrior grouched, "You say that now, girl, but just wait until I get the wild card." His took a card from his hand and placed it atop Ascera's solid red one. It was colored olive green, with a sword image on it. "Penetration card negates your base card," he informed her with a confident grin. "The tides have turned."

"I have the utmost respect for my elders," Ascera said absently, setting down a gold shield card upon the sword, "but I must say your stratagems do not correlate with that I've heard of old stormtrooper tactics. Defender card negates your penetration card. My base card takes the lead." Carson swore loudly.

Ran interjected, "How long have you been playing, Ascera?"

"Twenty minutes," she replied without arrogance. Her tone was serene. Ran smiled.

Carson looked from his cards at him. "Why don't you start tellin' me what it is you want me to do, boy. You Jedi don't go around hirin' scum like me and Borworken unless its gonna be a big mess. Out with it."

"I'll be brief and to the point, then," Ran replied. "We're heading to a planet called Mathassi. There are Jedi ruins there that our Master, Luke Skywalker, wants us to investigate. We are to bring any relics or holocrons we find. It is a simple mission, but the world is, by all accounts, an icy, forested affair. We know next to nothing about its predators or what plants are edible or medicinal. That's where you and Borworken come in."

"We're tour guides," the burly warrior muttered sourly. "We're frellin' tour guides!" His self-depreciating tone would have been heartbreaking in any other person, but Ran and Ascera knew very well the kinds of crimes he and the Wookiee had committed in their long lives; the Jedi held no pity for them. "All right," Carson said in a subdued voice. "I guess it shows that old age is catchin' up to me if I got to take a bunch of brats sightseein'."

"It's an easy ten thousand credits," Ascera said, making a vestigial attempt at assuaging the warrior's bruised pride. "All you have to do is keep us alive and make the trails safe."

"Just go back to playing cards, girl," he mumbled tiredly.

Ran sensed that the matter was closed and went to look for the final member of their party. He found De-Lanna in the cargo hold, working through her lightsaber forms. The Force swirled around her like a vast, weightless sea. Ran was not very strong in the Force himself, but she shone like a beacon to him. The fact that she had the lean, athletic build that he found so attractive was a bonus. And she was a brunette. Ran had a weakness for brunettes.

Smiling mischievously, he jumped into her field of view, lightsaber blazing in his hands. Their blades crashed with the smell of ozone. She was startled for a second, but retaliated with surprising quickness. Sparks and light flickered in the dimly lit cargo hold, signaling the beat and rhythm of their violent dance. She was an aggressive fighter, and pressed the attack with such ferocity that Ran felt his shoulders hit the wall. He ducked below her next swing, ran under her reach, and further ran up the wall and over her head.

When he landed, he had his blazing blue blade caressing her shoulder. "It's one to one, so far," he reported cheerfully. He deactivated his weapon. "What happened to your Nexus?" he asked without rancor, honestly curious as to why she did not use it.

She extinguished her blade and replied, "It is unbecoming for a Jedi to use their powers frequently. It is a display of arrogance to do so."

Funny that you seem to strut around with that same arrogance regardless, he thought to himself.

"I remember a story about a Force wizard who never used his full power in public," he said. "Everyone thought he was a weaker than he really was. So when a great beast came and attacked his village, people believed him mad to go up alone against it. But he slew it in one instant, earning the awe and fear of his people. Now knowing that he deceived them all their lives, they started distrusting him and eventually ran him out of town."

She wiped her brow and clipped her lightsaber to her belt. "An interesting story, and one I'll think on later." She placed her hands on her hips. "You were very foolish to jump in like that. I could have taken off your head."

"You sound like I wasn't prepared or something. I've been practicing with a lightsaber since I was five, De-Lanna. You too, probably. Years of training and the Force make it almost impossible to be caught off guard."

"Which is a conceit!" She turned on him and locked her enchanting blue eyes on his brilliant green. "You're dangerous, Ran. I realized that the moment you and I dueled in the academy gymnasium. You leap into things you shouldn't, like hiring that mercenary and his friend or jumping into my lightsaber exercises. Small things, yes, but how far will you go?"

"I can go pretty far," he replied flippantly. He pressed an arm against the wall, effectively trapping De-Lanna between him and his arm. "For one, I could be really, really dangerous and do this." He drove his head forward, pressing his lips against hers. Beneath him, he heard De-Lanna's muffled protests, and suddenly found himself flying backwards from a point-blank Force blast. He hit the opposite wall with enough kinetic force to make it clang.

"How dare you!" the brown-haired Jedi snarled, hands clenched tightly at her sides. She spun on her heel and stormed out of the cargo hold. A few seconds later, Ascera replaced her, leaning idly against the doorframe.

"Found a new girl to pine after, I see," she said wryly. There was laughter in her eyes. "You never get tired of that come on, do you, Ran?"

He rubbed his sore head and felt a welt growing on his scalp. He sucked in a pained breath. "I think she likes me," he noted.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, she didn't kill me outright."

"She's a Jedi—Jedi don't act in anger."

"Well, what do you call that?"

Ascera smirked. "Righteous female indignation."

* * *

Ran and Ascera had decided to remain in the cargo hold working on their lightsaber forms. Two hours into their practice, sweating and tired, they felt the ship shudder violently. Ran winced as his shoulders banged hard against a crate of foodstuffs. He heard Carson's gravelly voice through the intercom. "Somethin' just pulled us out of hyperspace. Someone get on the gunwells!"

The green-eyed Jedi gave his friend a worried look. The Twi'lek nodded, agreeing with his unspoken question. "Looks like we didn't give the Zoddo as big a slip as we thought," she said.

"In that case," Ran said, "you better get in the cockpit with Carson. Try and rip off their interdictor unit with the Force."

"It might be too massive for me to do it."

"We're in space, remember? Zero-gravity. It'll be slightly easier." He patted her shoulder reassuringly.

The two Jedi ran to their posts. They passed by De-Lanna on the way, and Ran told her to take one of the gunwells while he took the other. He climbed the ladder to the dorsal turret and buckled himself into the seat. He primed the communicators and spoke, "I'm in, Carson. Root me some power." Almost immediately, bright lights flickered on inside the gunwell, casting a coruscating rainbow across his dark face.

The targeting screens aligned themselves automatically, and Ran took the gunnery controls with confidence. "De-Lanna, you settled in?"

"Don't talk to me," she said icily. Ran decided to obey that chilling command.

The Zoddo fighters started arcing in. He recognized the attacking ships as a scrapped-together mix of Headhunters and decommissioned TIE interceptors. "Where'd they get TIEs?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. It did not matter in the end; he was going to blast them to pieces anyway.

The fight was swift, but fierce. He counted a total of eight Zoddo fighters, all flying with an eclectic style that made it obvious that each fighter was acting on his own, with no cooperation from the others. For an eternity, Ran never released the trigger on his weapons. Red slashes cut through midnight space, occasionally tearing apart blue shields and dull gray metal. Their ship rocked and barreled through punishing maneuvers—trademark of Borworken's risky flying style. Ran tried not to groan at the thought of the smelly Wookiee at the controls.

The ship panned around a much larger transport, a Corellian freighter with a white bulb attached to its dorsal side—the Zoddo interdictor ship, with the gravity well projector installed on its hull. Ran smiled. "Ascera, take out that interdictor!" The white bulb shuddered in space and threatened to tear apart from its parent ship. Cords, fueling cables, and support beams peeled away, but Ran saw with dismay that the gravity well projector was held in place by a thick tether cable. He made quick work of it, slicing it clean with a few well-placed shots. Ascera finished the task with a final, telekinetic pull. The projector, disconnected, flew into the black abyss.

"We're headin' to hyperspace," Carson informed them through the intercom. Stars became lines, and Ran let out a sigh as they jumped to lightspeed.

The party gathered into the cockpit, settling themselves into their chairs. Carson asked, "All right, what the hell is goin' on here? Zoddo chasing you is one thing, but Zoddo with frellin' interdictors is another. What's so important about you Jedi brats that someone's hirin' interdictors to ambush you?"

"We don't actually know," Ascera replied honestly. "I can only assume that whoever sent these bounty hunters is also seeking Mathassi or wishes to keep it hidden from outsiders. Why is a question that, I'm sure, will be answered on the planet itself."

Carson was quiet, his stony face considering her words. He settled back into his chair with a grunt. "So you Jedi ain't omniscient after all," he grumbled. Turning to more familiar topics, the burly warrior said to Ran and De-Lanna, "Nice shootin', you two. Between you, you took out five of those fighters. Nice job."

"Thanks," Ran responded cheerily.

"Your praise is…welcome," De-Lanna replied more carefully. Ran suspected the prim brown-haired Jedi was still uneasy near the callous mercenary. "If you don't mind, I'll retire to the cabins." She got up and left the cockpit, deliberately walking as far from Ran as possible. He saw Ascera smirking knowingly at him.

The Wookiee howled, which Ran roughly understood to mean, "Another stuck-up rich girl," though the idioms were a bit different.

But Ran saw the stern, faraway look that washed over Ascera's face; she understood the gist of the growling phrase. "Pray that a rich girl is all you'll have to face," she replied in silk-smooth tones, "and hope that we don't have to tough it out with anymore bounty hunters."

* * *

The hyperspace trip was quiet—at least so far as space encounters went. No interdictors, no sudden asteroid fields, and no hyperspace aliens tried to detour them from their journey. But within the ship itself, tensions rose.

And it was all Ran's fault.

Ran was a hot-blooded youth, born and raised in the gutters of Coruscant's lowest levels. Despair and poverty went hand in hand for him. He hated that life, was glad to be away from it forever, but he did miss his first family—a ragtag gang of belligerent street toughs who looked out for each other when no one else would. Among those smelly, smart-mouthed rogues, Ran had learned loyalty to his gang, how to survive by his own wits, and—most importantly—how to find entertainment in the foulest of places.

That last lesson he took to heart.

It began when Ran, in a fit of boredom, sneaked into the ship's cabin wing while Borworken was sleeping. The Wookiee's snores were horrendously loud, but they served to hide the green-eyed Jedi's own booted footsteps. Ran then shorn a good patch of fur from the sleeping behemoth's chin and cheeks. The resulting carnage almost made him regret the prank, "almost" being the operative adverb.

Then came Ran's prank on Ascera. Though the Twi'lek would die before admitting it, she was a meticulous caretaker of her own stunning looks. Her Jedi aesthetics would never permit her to voice her vanities aloud, but Ran knew that in the privacy of her cabin, Ascera spent at least an hour making sure her lush blue skin was perfect and unblemished. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Ran simply exchanged his friends' usual bottle of moisturizing cream with an identical container of poison ivy. Ascera's screams of horror and utter rage had broken Ran into a fit of laughter—which immediately drew the Twi'lek's deadly ire. He barely survived that punishment.

Next on Ran's list was Carson. The grim and gritty mercenary rarely talked and usually retired to his cabin early to drink away the hours with a tall bottle of Corellian ale. Never missing a fun opportunity when it so clearly presented itself, Ran performed another bottle exchange. This time, he swapped the ale for hot sauce. The former stormtrooper showed his ferocity that evening, and Ran received numerous bruises across his face and eyes for his antics. But he was still smiling—albeit with a split lip—at the end.

He was on his way to the refreshing to wash his injuries with that winning, devil-may-care smile when he chanced to run into De-Lanna exiting said refresher. A soft towel was wrapped around her lithe body with another coned around her boyish hair. They crashed into each other quite by accident, both falling onto their rumps. De-Lanna was quick on her reflexes, and gathered her towels, retaining her modesty.

But she did not have that same level of control over her blush.

Ran saw her—and the blush—and smiled wider. Sitting up, leaning against his hands, he leered playfully and noted, "Well, well. When you blush, you blush _everywhere_." He felt the Force flow around him, violently, and suddenly he was sent across the corridor and slammed his head into no less than three walls before skidding to a stop by Ascera's booted feet.

He winced and looked up. "Oh," he said dumbly. The Twi'lek's face, still slightly red from his trick, was the epitome of irritation. "Um, hi, Ascera."

"Ran Tonno-Skeve," she drawled out his name as if dragging a fish through a muddy stream, "you never learn, do you?"

He shrugged from where he lay on the floor. "Master Skywalker said I was a slow learner," he quipped innocently. The remark earned him a swift kick in the head.

Then De-Lanna stormed into the corridor, hastily tying her robes together. Hot outrage glowed in her blushing skin and pure loathing of Ran Tonno-Skeve was apparent on her snarling countenance. "I'm going to kill that peeping son of a bantha!" she growled.

Ascera heard her dark comment and beat her to it. She kicked Ran in the head again, hard.

"Ow!" Ran protested, "Stop that! You'll break something!"

"Hardly," the Twi'lek sniffed derisively, "I've yet to see proof that you have a brain. Now, what in the Core Worlds did you do _this_ time?"

De-Lanna gladly filled in, embellishing with choice remarks drawn from Corellian, Outer Rim, and Coruscanti underworld curses. Ascera's reddened face only dropped into the resignation of long trial and exhaustion. "Ran," she mumbled, "you're a hopeless idiot."

"More like a dead idiot," the brown-haired Jedi snarled.

"Hey," Ran sat up, leaning against the wall, "I only did a few harmless pranks. You know, to liven things up. I mean, we're all cooped up in here for the next while with nothing to do except play a few old holos, some cards, and training routines. This way, we can laugh at each other and talk about all the fun stuff that happened to you guys."

Ascera planted a booted foot on his chest, dangerously close to his windpipe. "_Fun_?" she roared, "You single-handedly turned my face into a toddler's finger-painting! Where's the fun in that?" Ran blanched from the heat of her ire, but then something happened.

De-Lanna snickered.

"Well," the brown-haired Jedi said, trying to stifle her laughter, "you _do_ look kind of funny with your face like that, Ascera." Suddenly, she could not contain herself anymore and burst out into bellyaching guffaws.

Ran looked at Ascera; she looked at him. "See," he said, "it's already working."

She sighed and rubbed her head. "I suppose it is kind of amusing tricking Carson to drink hot sauce." A wispy grin found its way to her lips. "And Borworken certainly howled a storm. And seeing you get pummeled by all of us was definitely rewarding."

"I'll say it is," Carson added agreeably. Ran saw that he was standing by the lounge, with his graying head and Borworken's shaven one peeking into the corridor. Doubtless they heard the latter end of Ran's verbal punishment under the girls' sharp tongues. But he also saw a broad grin on the burly warrior's leathery face, which made him seem ten years younger.

Ran smiled, ignoring the pain in his scalp, the pain in his lip, and the pain on his chest. There was laughter again in the lives on his comrades and friends. He learned long ago that enjoying yourself was a good trait, but that having others to enjoy life with you made the experience that much better.


	3. Shadowed Domain, Ch 3

**Chapter Three: Landing**

"That's it, Borworken," Ran noted with excitement, checking the scanners. They had just exited hyperspace and were heading inbound over a white-green world.

The winter woodland planet of Mathassi.

"It's more beautiful than anything I've ever seen," Ascera whispered, awed by the breathtaking view.

De-Lanna wiped misting tears from her eyes. "This is the first time I've ever visited another world aside from my homeworld of Senaria and Yavin. I've never seen anything like it. It's like a gemstone or the heart of winter itself. Everything that you ever loved about snow and the winter holidays is given form in that one planet."

Carson huffed derisively. "You're just another space virgin, girlie." Ran noticed De-Lanna's furious blush at being referred to as a virgin. The burly warrior barreled on, "This is just another world like any other. It's got its people, its customs, and its quirks. But it ain't anythin' new." He turned to the Wookiee, whose fur had begun to grow back in the bald spots Ran had cut. "Hey, Clean-shaven, get us some landin' coordinates."

Borworken howled something unflattering to his partner at the jibe, but dutifully searched the topographical scanners for a suitable landing zone.

"What the flamin' Core is this?" Carson demanded when he saw the suggested site. "That ain't a landin' zone, you fuzzball! Not for a ship this size. That's too small. We'd knock off somethin' important."

Ran took a look at the site coordinates himself and skimmed over the readings about the surrounding area. "Actually, I may be able to make that," he said with a touch of pride at having one-upped the burly, sour warrior. "It'll be tight, though," he amended.

"No way," Carson argued, "kid like you ain't got forty years of flight experience like Borworken does. If 'e can't land this sucker there, no one can. And that spot's too tight, I tell you."

"And I tell you I can make it. Besides, I've got better reflexes and you both know it. Experience helps in a lot of instances, but here, its reflexes that'll matter. And these coordinates are close to a large cluster of life-form readings, maybe even a settlement. It's a good spot to land."

Before Carson could protest further, Ran gained control of the ship and sent the transport into a hard, unrelenting, punishing plummet on full throttle. Borworken howled, frightened for his very life; Carson was gripping onto his seat and by the expression on his face, he was trying to keep down his breakfast. There were other screams in the lounge—Ascera and De-Lanna could be heard tumbling around, thrown off their feet by surprising Ran's maneuver.

"Hang on tight!" the green-eyed Jedi laughed belatedly. He drew upon the Force to show him the terrain ahead seconds before he crossed it. Every tree, every stone, every single animal and plant and mineral became known to him with the intimacy of a close friend. The curves and the edges, the twists and the turns…nothing was hidden from his sight. Instinct took over, guided his hands with a sureness he, for all his cocky skill, could never muster on his own.

Mountains suddenly appeared ahead and he hit the brake repulsors. The ship came to a slow, graceful stop, nestling between two arms of craggy rock without a scratch. Ran sighed and let adrenaline and the Force flow out of his hands. The universe became very small in his mind's eye, but a smile dominated his glowing face.

"How was that?" he smirked over at a dumfounded Carson.

* * *

De-Lanna looked over a datapad. "Doctor Shemza's research data says that the Jedi Temple should be about a day's hike from here, deep in the mountains to the east."

Ran, Carson, and Borworken peered over the ridge they were lying on, catching their first glimpse of the mysterious settlement below, a collection of primitive huts surrounded by bustling, pale-skinned humanoids. The humanoids had the look of farmers, herders, and gardeners. They were simple country folk who had never heard of the New Republic or even of a hyperdrive engine. There was a pristine nobility to them, Ran believed, a delicate purity that had gone untainted by outside troubles for untold generations. It seemed a crime to set foot upon their snowy world, whose unmarred white plains were as innocent as the creatures below seemed to be.

"That means we 'ave to go through the village," Carson said in a decidedly neutral tone. It was evident to Ran that the burly warrior did not enjoy the idea of walking around alien simpletons.

In truth, he himself did not relish the idea of imposing on those simple, noble-seeming beings. "But the Jedi came to them once before," he murmured to himself, wrestling with the implications. Louder, he said, "Let's go down there."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Ascera asked, kneeling next to him. "We are outsiders, armed. I don't think they'd take kindly to our presence."

"We have three Jedi," Ran argued, "and I don't mean I think we can beat them. The Jedi Knights came here once, Ascera, to have that Temple built. Maybe the Jedi are still revered here. If so…."

The Twi'lek finished his thought, for they were of one mind in this instance. "If so, then there could still be natives trained in the Jedi arts!" Excitement lit her face, which had fully healed from his prank. "Ran, De-Lanna, this means that we might be able to find capable, fully-trained recruits here for the academy! Not only that, but they'd have been trained under the doctrines of the old Order!"

Ran smiled at her joy. He knew well his friend's fascination with the romantic Jedi heroes of the Old Republic. Now, he thought, she'd finally get to meet them. The decision was made, and the party made their way down the ridge to the settlement below.

The trek was trying. Snow crunched beneath leather boots and seeped into homespun and trousers, chilling their legs. Cloaks and jackets were pulled close and tight as a mountain wind cut through their rapidly cooling bodies. Ran fell within himself, eyes half-lidded, compelling the Force to surge new vitality into his numbing limbs. He wondered how Carson was able to stand the environment with such grim stoicism, all without the benefit of Borworken's thick fur. Ran and his Jedi comrades were freezing in the mercenaries' wakes.

But no less than two hours later, they arrived half-frozen before the humble wooden gates of the walled village. Watchmen had spotted them long before, for a troop of the pale-skinned humanoids waited for them with primitive spears and axes in hand. Ran eyed them curiously. They were short creatures, with human builds, but their faces were plated with bony ridges that ran back along their bald scalps. What further intrigued him was their weaponry. Each was emblazoned with the insignia of the Old Republic.

One of the creatures waved a hand to his comrades, and the troop split, circling around Ran and his companions. Carson and Borworken lifted their blasters, but Ascera interceded, laying a staying hand upon the muzzles. Ran and De-Lanna kept their fingers close to their lightsabers but did not draw.

One of the creatures spoke in a harsh, guttural language of clicks and grunts.

"Ran," Ascera said, placing a hand on his arm, "remember what you did back on Gamaraa Three?"

He thought back to that incident. He and Ascera had been sent to acquire the native race's unique machinery, but they had difficulty communicating with them. Ran overcame that obstacle by drawing upon the Force to simulate the Gamarans' unusual mixture of verbal and emotional communication.

The Force filled him, and when he spoke, there was a tinny to it. "We are not enemies."

The creatures were taken aback, surprise evident upon their strange countenances. "You speak our language, as did the Ones Who Came Before."

Ran, Ascera, and De-Lanna exchanged glances, and the green-eyed Jedi voiced their question, "Who are the Ones Who Came Before? The Jedi?"

There was much howling and ruckus at the mention of the Jedi, for the creatures whooped and struck their spears into the air. "The Jedi! The Jedi! They carry their fire swords, see? See?" they shouted to each other. "The Jedi have returned to bring us the Great Change! They have come back at last!"

The three Jedi exchanged another glance and held a brief counsel, huddling close together. "Looks like the Jedi are still popular," Ascera said without preamble.

"They hold the Jedi in high regard," De-Lanna observed. "This may prove advantageous. They may be inclined to help us, since we're Jedi."

"Then I'll ask them about the Temple," Ran said. He declared the creatures, "We are of the Ones Who Came Before, the Jedi. I wish to know about the Jedi Temple that was built here."

A great solemn silence struck the humanoids, and they looked at him almost reverently. "The Jedi have come back to take their own," they solemnly replied with the hint of ritual, "We welcome the Jedi back, and will aid you in whatever way we can."

The humanoids led the party into their village. Carson and Borworken handled their blasters with the readiness of men who were ready to draw on a moment's notice. Ascera tried to calm them, but the battle-hardened mercenaries refused to be placated, even by the primitive lifestyle of their hosts. De-Lanna and Ran strode boldly ahead, both bearing their lightsabers on their belts with dignified airs. If the Jedi were truly respected on this ice world, then the display would only serve them to advantage.

The village was indeed simple, evoking a pastoral innocence amidst the white plains and frozen mountains. All around were excited children and awed adults, some staring, most just watching. "There's so many of them," De-Lanna murmured, "I've never seen such reverence in anyone's eyes before. Whatever the Jedi did before must have been truly remarkable."

Ran looked over at Ascera. The Twi'lek's own enthrallment with the Jedi mirrored the humanoids'. He felt comforted knowing that many, many others shared his friend's feelings. But he also knew that she felt doubt. Her face was drawn, concern glinting in the cool eyes. He knew the source of her uncertainty, and placed a reassuring hand upon her arm. "We are Jedi, Ascera," he said simply, seriously. "We may not be the old Order, but we are Jedi nonetheless. Whatever the old Order did for these people, we can too."

"Yes," she agreed, sounding like she was trying to convince herself. "Of course. We are akin to the Jedi of old. I have full confidence in our abilities." She offered him a forced smile, and that was the most he could hope for.

"I don't like where they're takin' us, Ran," Carson murmured from behind, "We know nothing about these aliens, but I'm guessin' that that hut they're bringin' us to ain't good for us." They were escorted to the wooden doors of the most majestic of the residences: a squat stone structure that was little more than a clay mound with branches for roofing. It seemed quaint and welcoming to Ran's eyes, and he sensed no danger or malice in the Force.

"Lighten up, Carson." The green-eyed Jedi strode confidently toward the clay house. "There's nothing to be afraid of here. Trust me."

"The last time you said that, the furball and I almost got eaten by a krayt dragon on Tatooine," the burly warrior countered sourly.

Ran just shrugged. "Look on the bright side—krayt dragons don't show up in the snow."

The wooden door opened and a thin-limbed old male stepped out, leaning heavily on a walking stick. Wrinkled and gray-skinned, with bony plates over his face that had lone since cracked and chipped to uselessness, the frail creature seemed truly ancient. But he radiated such calm assurance and wisdom that Ran felt weak in the knees, awed by his presence.

"You are Jedi," the old humanoid said in a shaky voice, his breath rattling in his small, withered chest. Ran blinked in surprise, and knew that his companions were similarly astonished. The old thing spoke Basic! "Yes, yes, your language I know. I learned it as it was learned by my father and his father and his father before. I am Zeth'Irak, Speaker of Many Tongues, and the last Speaker of my people, the Mathassar."

Ascera stepped forth and bowed respectfully before the aged alien; Ran, De-Lanna, and eventually even the mercenaries followed suit. "Master Zeth'Irak, we humbly thank you and your people for your hospitality. We came to investigate the Jedi Temple that was built on your world. As members of the Jedi Order, we felt it our duty to learn from the lore the old Masters undoubtedly left there."

Zeth'Irak simply nodded, as if this were already known to him. "I will aid you in whatever way I can, young Jedi. Come, enter my home, and let us discuss your quest for knowledge."

Minutes later, the party were seated cross-legged on threadbare rugs spread across a humble dirt floor, sipping at a hot, peppery gruel the diminutive Speaker offered them. Zeth'Irak knelt before them, his cane set across his legs. He closed his eyes and let out a soft breath. "I sense that you have many questions about your journey," he said with certainty.

Ascera, the nominal spokeswoman in affairs of diplomacy, replied, "Master Zeth'Irak, if I may. What can you tell us about this world and its people? Why did the Jedi come here in the first place? And what is this Great Change your people spoke of?"

Zeth'Irak chuckled. It was a wispy sound that reminded Ran of crackling paper. "Many questions indeed. We are the Mathassar, one of two dominant races upon our beloved world of Mathassi. We are artists, who teach moderation and humility. These qualities were attractive to the Jedi who visited us, and was one of the reasons why they shared their teachings with us."

"You have a Jedi tradition?" De-Lanna interrupted, surprised and intrigued. Ran, too, was astonished. He had a hard time envisioning the smallish beings in Jedi robes.

The Mathassar shook his head. "Our tradition died long ago; the Force runs thin in our blood." He sipped of his gruel. "The tale of the Mathassar and the Jedi begins two thousand years ago. Back then, our people had not heard of the Jedi or the Republic. In those days, the forests were even more lush, and the ice whiter than the stars. Many Mathassar lived, loved, and died in serenity and happiness. But then came the Angel from Heaven."

Zeth'Irak's wrinkled face drew down in sorrow. "The Angel from Heaven appeared before the Quelsar, our warlike cousins and the other dominant race of Mathassar. He wielded lightning and magic, sorcery and strange enchantments. And he carried a weapon of blazing fire."

"A dark Jedi?" Ran asked wonderingly.

The Speaker nodded grimly. "He was more than that, I fear. He called himself Darth Malice."

"_Darth_?" the three Jedi intoned in shock.

"The fearsome warrior from the heavens, a demon among demons, was Darth Malice, the demon and the Dark Lord of the Sith. He came and went to the Quelsar. They, in their desire to conquer Mathassi, accepted his vile teachings. Many became dark Jedi themselves, wielding the blazing fireswords of Malice's tutelage. War erupted throughout the ice plains, and many Mathassar died under burning blades and mystic sorcery. But then the Jedi Knights came.

"The Jedi, in pursuit of the demon, found our people at war with the Sith-trained Quelsar. Led by Dalaan Norsh, they fought back and won many victories. They even trained some of our brightest children in the ways of the Jedi. Soon, our people wielded the fireswords that could cut through mountains. With the help of the Jedi, we turned back the dark hordes and sealed them in their valley behind the mountains, where they hide to this day.

"But Jedi Norsh and his fellow Knights were not finished. They hunted down Darth Malice to the demon's foreboding castle, where they did battle with him. Though many Jedi perished in the noble endeavor, Master Norsh emerged victorious, bringing with him the body of Darth Malice, preserved in a chamber of ice."

"Chamber of ice?" Carson wondered.

"Cryogenics, perhaps," said Ascera.

Zeth'Irak continued his tale. "Jedi Norsh and his surviving comrades made to leave our lands, but before they did, he requested that the Mathassar he trained erect a grand Temple, one that would forever house and guard the body of the demon. In exchange, the Jedi would return to deliver us the Great Change—a fantastic transformation of our race, our prophesized ascendancy.

"For generations, the Mathassar Jedi upheld their vows and guarded the demon's physical form…until they all died, one by one. Old age and time claimed them, for even Jedi are not immortal. As the centuries wore on, the Force grew thinner and thinner among our kind, so there were no new Jedi to replace the guardians who passed away. Now, the Temple stand unattended, a place of taboo. None are allowed to venture there for fear of awakening the demon from his icy slumber."

Zeth'Irak ended his saga with another sip of gruel.

Ran saw that Ascera wiped a small tear from her eyes; he could feel her in the Force, feel how moved she was by the story of the old Order's noble deeds. He squeezed her shoulder, fully understanding the effect this was having on her.

"Master Zeth'Irak," Ran ventured, taking over as spokesman, "why did the demon—Darth Malice—come to Mathassi in the first place?"

"Jedi Norsh told our ancestors that the demon sought a nexus of energies that lay on our planet." The Speaker shrugged. "We know nothing of such things, but Jedi do not lie. If you wish to learn more, then make your way up the northern mountains. There you will find the Jedi Temple, untouched for two millennia. It is a sacred place of mysteries to us, for no Mathassar has ever set foot upon its hallowed grounds. All I ask is that once you have learned what you came to learn, you will uphold the promise of the Jedi and give us our Great Change."

"We will do what we can," the green-eyed Jedi promised sincerely. "We are not the Jedi of the old Order, but as Jedi, we give you our word to help bring about the Great Change."


	4. Shadowed Domain, Ch 4

**Chapter Four: The Jedi Temple**

The trek to the Temple was long, arduous, and above all, frigid. Nestled deep within the mountains, the ancient stronghold of the Mathassar Jedi was hidden from the eyes of sentient and beast, a silent and forgotten testimony to the power of the old Order. The party pressed through the snow-slicked trails, grit their chattering teeth against the icy winds that slashed through their cloaks, and endured the punishing climate. Many times they feared that they would freeze to their deaths when twilight settled and night shrouded the white-capped mountains under its grayish shadow.

Ran saw the grim set to the jaws of his friends, knew that their resolve had begun to waver in the shivering cold. As was his wont, he took the initiative and settled himself to raise a few hackles—and hopefully some spirits in the process.

They made camp beneath a mountain ledge, the only shelter from the blowing snows. Night had fallen and their cold-weather survival gear was a poor substitute for a campfire. But no matter how hard they tried, their portable heater simply was not sufficient to breathe life into their numbing hands. De-Lanna huddled closest to the heater; having lived most of her life in the temperate climes of Yavin Four, she was unused to the drop in temperature. Ran made her his first target.

He sidled next to her, very close, and threw his cloak around them both. She practically leaped to her feet in surprise, but he just wrapped a strong arm around her and held her down. He saw Ascera shake her head at his antics, and the mercenaries just smirked at the prospect of coming entertainment.

"Come on," Ran whispered in low tones to De-Lanna. "What's the matter? You're cold, I'm cold, the heater is a piece of junk. We got to keep warm somehow."

"And you propose to do this by snuggling next to me?" she bit back in a louder, nastier voice. "I don't think so." She tried to stand up again, but he was stronger and just kept her pinned down. "Let go."

"Hey, it's not a bad idea," he argued.

"You're attempts to seduce me are juvenile and amateurish," she countered acidly. "Now let go, you scruffy monkey-lizard."

Ran heard Carson snicker. "Remember that kiss in the cargo hold?" the green-eyed Jedi reminded her with a broad grin. She blushed a bright red. "Yeah, I think you were totally getting into it. That slap was just protocol and stuff."

A large snowball, fashioned from the Force and hurled by the same, hit Ran in the back of the head, pitching him forward. Uproarious laughter echoed in the camp, even from Ascera. De-Lanna stood and walked off in a huff, her anger so hot that she no longer felt the chill. Ran just smiles, lying on his side and watching her leave. He turned conspiratorially to his companions. "Oh yeah, I think she likes me."

The party did not die a frigid, unheralded death and a week's journey later, they stood before the majestic Temple. The towering structure was crumbling along its battlements, snow heavily laden on its eaves and overhangs, but its austere, natural beauty was apparent in the simplicity of its design. It was indeed a great relic of the past, hearkening to a simpler, humbler age.

But apart from its brilliance, the Temple radiated the serenity of the light side of the Force. Ran and his fellow Jedi were at peace here, standing amongst the quiet spirits of the old Jedi Order, of the open-minded, artistic Mathassar who had studied the old ways. Compassion and understanding, peace and justice, serenity and knowledge filled the air, the snow, even the cold stone of the Temple; Ran felt that he was home.

Ran saw Ascera wipe a tear from her eye, knowing well the awe that must fill her being so close to the spirits of the Jedi she so admired. De-Lanna, proud and aloof as she was, could not find her breath. Even Carson and Borworken were taken by the Temple's magnificence.

"All right people, let's get this over with," the green-eyed Jedi announced, adjusting his utility belt and striding boldly forward.

Carson and Borworken followed close behind, blasters up and ready—just in case. Ascera and De-Lanna made to move as well, but stopped suddenly. A moment later, Ran felt what had alerted them: a poisonous, tainted aura, chaos sliding amidst the serenity of this holy ground, like oil over water. "Dark Jedi," he murmured, drawing his lightsaber, but not igniting it. He moved to the west side of the Temple, following the dark aura.

"Ascera, Carson, Borworken—head into the Temple and secure it," he ordered, taking the lead. "De-Lanna and I will handle this. We're the fighters of this group, and against dark Jedi, blasters will be useless." The Twi'lek nodded her agreement and began marshalling the mercenaries into the Temple proper. Ran and De-Lanna made their way toward their foes.

"You better not do something foolish," the brown-haired Jedi said tonelessly.

"Like what?" Ran asked innocently.

"Like making a pass at me or some other juvenile foolery."

He only smiled in response. The roguish grin faded quickly when they came upon the cemetery on the west side of the Temple. The light side was strongest there, and both Jedi could feel it, strengthening their bodies and resolve. But the darkness they perceived haunted it like a grim, cloying film. Amidst the snow-covered headstones of Jedi Masters who became one with the Force long, long ago, stood a lone warrior, clad in black. Covering the mysterious figure's face was a mask of jade, etched with archaic runes that sent shivers down Ran's spine, so frightening were the inscriptions.

The dark warrior turned to face them, a long-handled lightsaber in hand. "I thought I sensed the presence of new victims," the warrior intoned in a gravelly, male voice. "My master claimed this place devoid of Jedi. It seems he is not, as he wishes to believe, infallible." A blazing red blade extended from the hilt. He spun the wicked weapon in a graceful, menacing arc before settling into an offensive stance, the lightsaber grasped in both hands above his head. "No words, Jedi," he hissed. "On this ground, you have the advantage, but do not underestimate the power of the dark side! This Sith warrior will crush you. Come, show me the vaunted strength of the light side of the Force, and die at my feet!"

Ran tried to suppress his surprise. Sith? he wondered. But Master Skywalker fought the last of them, watched Palpatine die! But the thought was fleeting, a mere moment in the continuity of the living Force. The dark warrior, the embodiment of the ancient ways, when Sith and Jedi fought across the galaxy, advanced with lightning speed. Ran ignited his lightsaber, basking in its bright blue blaze, and blocked the warrior's ferocious, powerful attack; the green-eyed Jedi gasped, feeling his arms go numb for an instant. He fell back against the Sith's mighty blows, dodging and parrying as best he could.

De-Lanna leaped into the fray with a great yell, her own white blade almost invisible against the snow. But the dark warrior brought his blood-red weapon back around, stopping the white, blazing edge effortlessly. The Jedi traded blows with the Sith warrior for what seemed like eternity, neither side gaining a foothold or a tactical advantage. So powerful, Ran thought with no small amount of admiration, He fights us where the light side is strong, and yet can fight two of us to a standstill! Ran's respect for the dark side increased manifold as the battle with the mysterious warrior progressed.

"Who are you?" De-Lanna asked suddenly, breaking into the rhythm of battle. "Why did you come here? These grounds hold no place for you, dark Jedi!" Ran had the feeling that she did not believe in the warrior's claims to the Sith, and with good reason. The Sith were dead. But Ran could not deny his power.

"My motives are my own, Jedi," the warrior snarled. Suddenly, his foot snaked out with impossible speed and godlike precision, striking De-Lanna in the throat. He followed his fierce attack with a telekinetic punch from his open hand, sending the brown-haired Jedi into the air. Her back struck a tall headstone, and she crumpled at its base. Her lightsaber landed by her hand, its blade extinguished.

"De-Lanna!" Ran cried out, but his exclamation was quickly silenced when the dark warrior's empty fist crashed into his face. He felt blood pool into his mouth, and its salty taste made him retch. He fell back, just barely regaining his senses enough to block the oncoming onslaught of lightsaber slashes. Ran edged backward, sacrificing more and more ground to his fearless, unrelenting opponent. "I can't lose," he muttered to himself, a mantra against the pain. "I can't lose! I can't lose!" But still he fell back.

Frustration welled in him, turning into anger. "I need strength," he whispered, "just enough to push him back and regain my footing." But the dark warrior was relentless, raining blow upon blow against him, giving no quarter. Something inside Ran snapped and he pushed forward with a cry of rage. "I can't _lose_!" he screamed, pushing away the red blade and drawing his own lightsaber in a vicious backstroke. The blue edge slashed across the warrior's jade mask, sending sparks flying into the air. His opponent fell back with a cry of pain.

But Ran was not finished. He pressed forward, lightsaber blazing in spinning arcs. At the end of the display, he slammed the weapon deep into the warrior's arm, boring a hole and sending the smell of burnt flesh into the air. To his credit, the warrior did not cry out, but simply dropped his weapon. Its red blade disappeared as soon as it left his hand.

Ran ripped his lightsaber free of his opponent's limb, resting its glowing blade by his face. The jade mask fell away, sliced cleanly in two, revealing the dark warrior as a Rodian, green tapered snout twitching in a snarl of outrage and pain. His insect-like eyes glared at Ran with open hatred.

"Jedi revere life," he told the Rodian grimly. "But I'd kill you without a second thought for trying to kill me and my friend over there." He looked over to where De-Lanna had fallen. She was getting up, shaking her head, trying to clear it. Her groans were loud. "Are you all right?" Ran asked in concern. The brown-haired Jedi nodded uneasily; movement apparently disturbed her senses, an observation that worried him.

He picked up the Rodian's lightsaber and tucked it into his belt. "Stay where you are," he ordered, "or I swear I won't spare you the next time." He extinguished his lightsaber but kept it in hand, rushing to De-Lanna's side. Without preamble, he rested a hand against her forehead, letting the Force flow through him and into her. Bonded briefly as they were, he felt the injuries she had sustained knit and heal. "Come on," he said gently, helping her stand, "Let's get this guy bound up before he gets any funny ideas."

"Thank you," she said, still holding her head. "Now I know what a stomped-on Jawa feels like." Her eyes widened suddenly, and Ran, already alert for treachery, spun and ignited his lightsaber in one motion. There was an agonized cry as his blade sliced clean through the Rodian's arm, sending the severed limb sailing across the cemetery. The green-eyed Jedi followed his blade with a hard roundhouse kick to the Rodian's temple. He met resistance and heard a loud crack. The dark warrior fell to the snows, unconscious.

Ran checked for a pulse. "Still alive," he declared grimly, his tone neutral. "He should be out for the next few hours, at least. We won't have to worry about him."

"Then we should find the others." De-Lanna recovered her lightsaber, clipped it to her belt, and with Ran's assistance, hobbled to the Temple proper. They left the Rodian lying in the cold snow.

With the brown-haired Jedi hanging on his arm, Ran decided to take advantage of the situation. He slipped his hand around her slim waist and pulled her closer to him by an infinitesimally small amount. She grunted, "Watch it, nerf-herder. I'm watching your every move."

"You seem to have an unhealthy interest in me then," he replied lightly.

"Monkey-lizard!" she hissed. "Just don't get too comfortable." Ran just laughed, which only served to raise her hackles. With surprising dexterity for one still unbalanced by her injuries, De-Lanna stomped on his foot, hard. Ran sucked in a breath. "Like I said, don't get too comfortable."

On that note, they made their way into the Temple, where they found Ascera, Carson, and Borworken at an ancient computer terminal, accessing the Temple schematics. The Twi'lek let out a cry when she saw them. "What happened out there?"

De-Lanna offered to explain. "That dark Jedi we fought was a lot tougher than we expected," she said simply.

"It was a Rodian who claimed he was one of the Sith," Ran said.

Ascera blinked. "Impossible, Master Skywalker fought the last of them. There aren't any Sith left to teach a new generation."

Ran shrugged. "Maybe this one found a holocron or something, or met a Force spirit like Exar Kun and learned from that. But he was trained in the Jedi arts, and knew how to wield a lightsaber something fierce. He almost killed De-Lanna."

"Where is he now?" Carson asked, checking the settings on his blaster.

"I left him unconscious and one arm lighter," the green-eyed Jedi replied coolly. "And I took his lightsaber. He didn't seem too proficient with the Force other than telekinesis. His power was mostly in the martial arts."

"Meanin' that he won't be a problem against three Jedi and two mercenaries if he wakes up," Carson reasoned. "I wouldn't 'ave let 'im live if I were you," he muttered.

"Well, you're not me," he countered with a bit more vitriol than he intended. His brush with death—and the wellspring of rage he had experienced during the fight—left him edgy. "There's no need to needlessly kill an opponent if he's been disabled and no longer a threat. There's a story of a swordsman of the Old Republic who killed without mercy and, when he finally met his match, he begged for the very mercy he denied to others. He died alone and friendless." Carson looked as if he was going to argue, but remained silent. That did not stop him from shaking his head, though.

"A warrior claiming he is a Sith coming to a Temple that holds a Sith prisoner," Ascera noted grimly. "This is no coincidence. That Rodian must have been after Darth Malice, perhaps to learn from him or free him or both."

Ran nodded. "That's logical. He also mentioned that he had a master, so we'd better watch out for any more dark Jedi in here. I can't say I'm terribly interested in another lightsaber fight, though."

"I second that," De-Lanna muttered, favoring her side. She still held onto Ran's arm for support, though her sour expression blatantly spoke volumes of her feelings on the matter.

"Regardless, we must press on," the Twi'lek declared. "I sense the dark side below us—probably where the Jedi caged Darth Malice. But my instincts tell me that there is something even more important above us." She pointed to a spiral staircase in one corner of the grand entrance chamber. "There is no dark side energies there, just a cool serenity; something of importance to the Jedi lies there, I'm certain of it."

"Jedi magic," Carson muttered in low tones to his Wookiee companion, who growled in resigned assent. Clearly, they did not share in Ascera's confidence about their priorities.

"Ascera is right about that," De-Lanna said agreeably. "I, too, sense something of tremendous value above. But the master of that Rodian dark Jedi must be found if he is indeed trying to get to Darth Malice."

Carson spoke, waving his blaster in a display of masculine power. "Leave that to me, the fuzzball, and Ran. We're tough cookies; we'll take 'em for you ladies."

"I agree," said Ran. "Don't worry about us. We'll be careful."

Ascera sighed. "Ran, every time you say that, you end up lying. Just try not to get yourself killed."

The party divided into two groups, and the female Jedi headed up the spiral stairs. The remaining three pressed on and found a thick durasteel door, slightly open with its locks excised by the cut of a lightsaber. Ran grimaced. "This leads to the chamber below, but we're a bit late," he announced with quiet dread. He ignited his lightsaber and slipped through the slightly opened doors. The mercenaries followed a few steps behind. Carson flooded the stairwell within with light from a glowrod attached to his blaster.

They heard laughter as they reached the base of the stairs and entered the chamber of the imprisoned Sith Lord. Austere and circular, it held nothing more than a durasteel portal at the far end and the great cryogenic prison of Darth Malice, Dark Lord of the Sith. Standing before that prison were two black-robed figures, a withered human man and a beautiful, violet-skinned Twi'lek. The old man was laughing.

"Welcome, Jedi and companions!" he howled. "I sense that you defeated Quid Carm. I extend congratulations, for he is well trained and a fearsome opponent. You must be truly skilled indeed to have bested him." His tone was sincere, flattering.

Ran strode toward him, lightsaber in hand. "You must be the Rodian's master, then," he observed. "You have us at a disadvantage, dark master. You knew of our coming, but we could not sense you at all."

"But of course!" he replied gaily, "The dark side is a power that no Jedi can match! By all accounts, even your Master Luke Skywalker once succumbed to its lure. Hiding ourselves from your senses is a talent that all Sith must master."

"You are no Sith," Ran declared firmly. "That order died long ago."

The old man just laughed. "How little you know, young Jedi. The Sith your master defeated are dead, true. But I will bring them back. It was I who found the Sith holocron on Coruscant's lowest levels, a forgotten record of this great man," he raised a reverent hand to the cryogenic chamber, "and his many deeds. From that holocron I learned how to wield the Force and construct a lightsaber and to use both in battle. From there I gathered my own apprentices and taught them the dark arts. From there I learned of Mathassi and Darth Malice. And further will we go, when we bring the Dark Lord of the Sith back into this galaxy!"

Carson scoffed and lazily fired his blaster. "Shut up, old man."

The Twi'lek moved with Force-enhanced speed, silently drawing a red-bladed lightsaber from her belt. The blaster bolt screeched as it struck the energy blade. It bounced off and hit the wall near Carson's head; the mercenary involuntarily jumped, surprised.

The old man smiled, revealing rotted teeth. "As you can see, Leena here is also well trained. You defeated Quid Carm, but with help from another, or my senses fail me. You're companions' blasters are useless here. How can you best his equal alone, Jedi?"

Ran ignited his lightsaber and whispered over his shoulder to the mercenaries, "He's right. You'll only get killed here. Get Ascera and De-Lanna!"

"Frell it, kid," Carson snarled, "I ain't runnin' like a coward!"

"Then you'll die like a fool!" the green-eyed Jedi countered. "This isn't a democracy, Carson. Get out of here before you get yourselves killed. I can't do this alone, but this is a Jedi matter, so get Ascera and De-Lanna!"

The mercenaries reluctantly moved toward the stairs. As they left, Carson muttered nastily, "First tour guides, now errand boys. What's the galaxy comin' to, Borworken?"

Once they were safely away, Ran turned his full attention to his two opponents. His fingers trembled at the thought of facing two dark Jedi. "There is no emotion," he recited under his breath, "there is peace." But his fingers still trembled.

"I am Marcus Tauth, and you will die here, Jedi," the old man proclaimed, raising his hands. A dark pall swept across the room, filling it with a dull slowness. Everything moved slower, Ran's legs, Ran's arms, Ran's senses—everything came close to stopping, except for the dark Jedi, who seemed to move faster and faster. Ran felt sweat bead on his palms and forehead. Fear, cold and retched, stuck his voice into his throat and made even that dry and aching. His breath came in ragged, short gasps.

The Twi'lek woman charged, her lightsaber spinning in a precise, graceful arc. Ran moved to counter, but his arms were sluggish and fear tripped his heart like a hammer. He only barely brought his weapon to defend in time. This battle, he knew, would be much, much worse than the one against Quid Carm.

The Twi'lek, Leena, was far more dexterous than her Rodian counterpart, though she lacked the upper body strength to attempt the pulverizing blows Quid Carm performed. But she was a crafty foe, snaking her blade past Ran's defenses, scoring hit after burning hit across his arms, thighs, sides, and chest. In moments, his tunic was in charred shreds, and boiled blood caked cauterized flesh wounds.

I can't keep this up, he thought desperately, She's just too fast, too accurate. He spun his lightsaber in a wild maneuver, catching her incoming blow and turning it harmlessly aside. It only returned on a back pass, scoring a hit on his left forearm; he bit his lip to suppress his cry, closed his eyes against the tears as he caught whiff of the horrid stench of his own burning skin.

Then came the lightning. Marcus Tauth, standing defiant and glorious by the chamber of the Sith Lord, raised his hands and let loose his power. Blue lightning spilled forth, washing Ran in pain and spasms. His lightsaber dropped to the floor and he was sent flying back against the wall. He had suppressed the hurt he felt in his body during the lightsaber duel, but with the dark side tearing into his very being, he could not help but cry out in pure, utter agony. Smoke rose from him, and black scorch marks appeared on his face, neck, and other exposed areas. The tirade abated, and he crumpled to the ground, dizzy and dazed, his vision a haze of purplish lights.

But he could make out the ferocious image of Leena bearing upon him, her blade poised to lay the killing blow. Instinct took over, and Ran called upon the Force to aid him. His lightsaber skated across the stone floor to his hand, and he thumbed the activation switch. The blue blade shot forth, stabbing the Twi'lek woman in the abdomen. He narrowed his eyes and willed the Force to push her away. She hurtled through the air to land on the other side of the room, badly wounded. Her shallow breathing indicated that she still lived.

"Impressive, boy," Tauth said as he observed his apprentice's defeat. "You are a most powerful warrior. I can only assume that it was you and your friends who defeated my Zoddo hirelings. Their failure at preventing Jedi interference here on Mathassi speaks volumes of my wasted credits. But no matter—I alone have power enough to crush your insignificant life, if I so choose."

Ran struggled to his feet, keeping a hand on the wall to maintain his balance. "I beat your Zoddo and your apprentices. I still have enough gumption to take you down, too, Tauth," he declared bravely. "The Force is my ally, and here, the light side is stronger."

"Here, yes," the old man assented, "but you do not know the power I possess. The Dark Lord _will_ be freed." Lightning crackled and danced across his fingertips, and Ran shuddered involuntarily, dreading the next electrifying outburst.

"Bring it, old man," he challenged boldly, even though fear ran like blood through his veins.

Tauth smiled. "As you wish." Lightning shot forth in waves once again. Ran brought up his lightsaber, catching the energy in his weapon. The old man only pressed his assault, putting more and more dark power into each successive blast. The green-eyed Jedi gritted his teeth and forced himself to pull the lightning into his blade. He could feel the hilt of his lightsaber heating, its metal casing burning into his hands. He winced, but kept up his defense.

Then the lightning stopped. "Boy," he said suddenly, "I recognize your valor and would offer you a singular opportunity."

Wary, Ran ventured to say, "What could you possibly offer me?"

"I sensed your despair, your desperation, both against me and against Quid Carm. In that battle above, you used that frustration to fuel yourself into anger, to fuel yourself further to victory."

"What of it?"

"That is the way of the dark side! What you did up there was call upon what I serve with all my heart and soul!"

Ran cringed and felt the first twinges of an even colder fear, a darkness that clung to him. "You lie."

Tauth shook his withered head. "I do not. It became a tool for your survival, and gave you victory over a superior opponent. Anger, fear, passion—these things brought you success. If you embrace it, you will become greater than any Jedi!"

"I would not," Ran replied coldly, holding onto his stalwart heart.

But Tauth had already laid the first barbs. "The Jedi weaken you, boy. They are hypocrites. They promote peace and justice, but they do so by force and blade!"

"Only because there is no other way at times," the green-eyed Jedi argued, "and we are taught to find alternative means aside from violence."

"But do you? Don't you relish battle?"

"I don't kill out of fun, old man."

"I did not say that. I said 'do you relish battle?' I know this to be true, for Quid Carm is like you in that regard. The only difference is that he feels no remorse for killing. Battle is where a warrior's heart is forged, where his potential is found. The dark side can bring that potential to fruition and turn you into an invincible soldier of the Force! You need not listen to my account alone—look upon my apprentices, Quid Carm and Leena. Both were about your age, both with the same degree of training. Yet they almost destroyed you, Carm against both you and another Jedi. What does that say of the dark side's promises?"

"I don't care for power. I'm just grateful to the Jedi for saving me and bringing me from the hell that is Coruscant's gutters."

"If gratitude is all you joined them for, then you are a greater fool than I ever believed. You do not have the heart of a Jedi, boy! You're soul is a free one, and it seeks to move with the winds and to fly like the birds. To cage yourself beneath the tenets of an ancient religion like the Jedi is to trap yourself. You deny yourself freedom. The dark side will set you free again."

Ran thought about the old man's words, dwelled on them. The ache in his heart turned from fear of this man to doubt of the Jedi. All of the scolding, the trouble he got into, the opportunities he passed up because of the Jedi Code came back to him in a rush of memory. His resolve wavered and his lightsaber's blade disappeared as he released the activator switch. Tauth smiled warmly.

"Don't listen, Ran," came Ascera's familiar voice. She, De-Lanna, and the mercenaries stepped down the stairs, weapons drawn. "The dark side only leads to destruction and death. You only have to look at the body of his apprentice to see that."

Tauth sneered at her. "Spoken like a true indoctrinated fool. The Jedi ply their lies upon you like paint, covering your true colors. Open your eyes! This is true power!" He released his lightning into the ceiling, bringing down a massive chunk of rock. De-Lanna drew her lightsaber in a reflexive response. Tauth only turned his nose at her white blade. "A Jedi's weapon, a symbol of their authority. But it is nothing more than an image of power. The Jedi claim peace, but wield the killing implements of warfare."

Ascera strode boldly toward him, her lightsaber still at her belt. "I do not fear the dark side, whoever you are, for the light side is my strongest ally." She rested a hand against Ran's shoulder. "Next to my friends, of course." Ran blinked and offered her a shaky smile.

"Surrender Tauth," the green-eyed Jedi demanded, regaining some of his composure and old bravado. "You won't beat all of us."

Tauth took stock of them with scathing eyes, but Ran felt his wariness. The old man sighed in resignation. "You are right—I cannot defeat you all, not alone. But I do not surrender my words." He reached into his black robes and drew forth a finely crafted lightsaber forged from pure silver. He dropped it on the ground and kicked it over. Ascera picked it up and clipped it to her belt.

"Your holocron," Ran demanded, "the one you told me about. Give that up, too."

Tauth seemed to smile a ghostly grin, "Of course." He dropped a pyramidal crystal as well, kicking it over to Ran. On shaky legs, he bent down and picked it up.

"Help him," Ascera told De-Lanna, nodding over at Ran. "Carson, Borworken, go get that woman over there, if she's still alive, and then pick up the other dark Jedi. I'll take care of the old man. And you," she grabbed Ran's tousled dark hair firmly, "I told you to be careful, and what do you do? Tackle two more dark Jedi by yourself! You're an idiot, Ran." She patted his face fondly. "Get yourself some medpacs when we're done, old friend."

Ran smirked at her. The kernel of doubt had seeded his heart, but with his friends here, he could just ignore the darkness that had almost gripped him. Ascera knew him well; he suspected that she knew she had saved him in ways not possible with a lightsaber. "Yes ma'am," he said cheerily.

* * *

The party returned to the village of the Mathassar, bearing the three captive dark Jedi in tow. The weeklong trek seemed shorter, less harrowing, and to their great surprise, Tauth and his apprentices were pliant. Ran initially suspected treachery from them, but none was given. That freed him from that particular worry, allowing him to focus on other things.

Ascera reported to Ran and the mercenaries what she and De-Lanna discovered. "We found a library full of databases and holocrons," she said excitedly. "Among them was an enormous crystal made by Jedi Dalaan Norsh's former apprentice, Oda Zain. Zain's holocron answered many questions.

"Firstly, Norsh was considered something of a renegade by the Jedi Council. He often dealt with the foulest scum of the galaxy: crime lords, slavers, and drug traffickers. To find enough evidence to apprehend them, he often had to go undercover, weaving his way into their ranks. Many conservative Jedi believe he walked a fine line between the light and dark sides, but there is no recorded instance of him ever turning.

"His investigative skill was only one hallmark. Jedi Norsh was also a brilliant tactician, and he based a lot of his stratagems by being able to understand how his opponents' psyches work. Many called him a 'Jedi psychologist.' That was one of the reasons why he was assigned to capture Darth Malice. Though they did not meet until they arrived on Mathassi, Norsh apparently ascertained Malice's thought processes from stories, possessions, and crime scenes. The trail he discovered brought him to Mathassi, where Darth Malice had gone to acquire some kind of powerful energy source.

"Norsh and his team of Jedi Knights came and helped the Mathassar fight off Malice's Sith-trained Quelsar allies. The Jedi then stormed the Sith Lord's fortress and took the fight to him directly. By all accounts, including the holocron's, Norsh defeated Malice and trapped him in the cryogenic chamber."

"Why do you say 'by all accounts?'" Ran asked. "Do you doubt them?" Ran saw that De-Lanna was looking at the Twi'lek in askance as well.

Ascera pursed her lips. "There is something wrong about all of this," she said at length. "I can't put my finger on it, and there is no empirical evidence to back my statement, but my feelings tell me that there is more to this than meets the eye. Something…elusive."

"Go with your feelings, for they are the will of the Force," De-Lanna said suddenly. Ran blinked; he was about to say the same words himself.

Ascera nodded. "I agree, which is why I want to return to Yavin Four as soon as possible. There are things I want to check in Master Skywalker's records on the Jedi." The party continued on their journey.

When they finally arrived at the Mathassar village, Zeth'Irak was there to meet them. "I sense that you have found part of what you are looking for," he said simply when they stepped into the village grounds.

Ascera bowed politely. "Yes, we have, but it has led to more questions. I fear that you will have to wait a bit longer for your Great Return. But I swear, we will deliver to you what we promised. Just give us some time."

The Speaker just nodded, as if he already knew this. "Go, then. We Mathassar are patient. And I feel that much more is in store for you here. You will return, perhaps sooner than you expect." With those words hanging in the chill air, the diminutive Mathassar hobbled back to his hut. The party returned to their ship in silence, though Ran, Ascera, and De-Lanna each dwelled on the portent of Zeth'Irak's words.

Soon, the three Jedi sat in the lounge of their ship, the quiet of hyperspace deafening. The mercenaries were keeping watch over the flight controls and the dark Jedi were safely contained in the cargo hold. But no matter how they tried, the Jedi could not release themselves from the cloying touch of dread.

"There's more to this than we ever suspected," they thought with one mind. "Something bigger than we can imagine, something more frightening, something more convoluted and mysterious. The dark Jedi know part of the puzzle, Norsh knew another. The last piece lies with Darth Malice, but it must remain forever hidden."

They thought this, and always, a wizened Mathassar's voice rang in their ears: "Much more is in store."

**End Book One**


	5. Poisoned Stars, Ch 1

**_Shadows of the Past, Book Two: Poisoned Stars_  
**

_Timeline:_ 20 after the Battle of Yavin Chapter One: Dark Challenge

The blue-white streaks of starlight suddenly shrank around the small starship, coalescing into the vast emptiness of space. But that vast emptiness was not quite so empty, for the forested jungle moon of Yavin Four loomed below them. The three Jedi who were aboard the floating transport ship breathed a collective sigh of relief. They had spent the past while in a trying hyperspace journey with very precious—and dangerous—cargo. Their nerves were on edge, but returning to their home brought some measure of calm to their taut souls.

"We're here at last," sighed one of the Jedi, a brown-haired girl in her mid-teens. She leaned over the viewport, letting her blue eyes drink in the sight of the green trees. Her name was De-Lanna Tamaran, a student of the Jedi. And she was glad to be home.

A Twi'lek female, also young, drew her plain homespun robes around her curvaceous figure, the modest garments hiding her lush fullness. She held her chin imperiously, serene and calm. "I'm glad," she said tonelessly. "At least now we can be rid of our…cargo. Those dark Jedi in the back have been trying of late."

De-Lanna saw the third Jedi, a human male around her age, smirk in that roguish way of his. "Leena's just mad that she doesn't have your looks, Ascera. That's the only reason why she'd try pulling pranks on you with the Force." De-Lanna knew that many youthful members of the Jedi Order found him, Ran Tonno-Skeve, a handsome and charming rapscallion—a scoundrel in Jedi robes. She would not admit it openly, but she agreed with the assessment. But she still felt extremely irritated with his carefree demeanor. The fact that he made no less than six passes at her during their arduously long hyperspace journey did not make him endearing any faster.

Ascera, Ran's oldest friend and sister figure, leveled a mean glare. "I find it equally unsettling that you insist on referring to them by name, Ran."

The irreverent youth only flashed a disarming smile. His green eyes glittered mischievously. "I don't see the problem. They're people like us. Just because they're evil doesn't mean we shouldn't give them at least some courtesy."

De-Lanna watched him closely. They had just returned from an adventure in the distant reaches of space, on a forgotten planet called Mathassi. There, they had found an ancient Jedi Temple and three dark Jedi who sought its secrets: the venerable dark side master Marcus Tauth, the volatile Rodian Quid Carm, and the vivacious Twi'lek Leena. The dark Jedi had been defeated and taken captive, held securely in the transport's cargo hold. That should have been the end of it, but De-Lanna had the eerie feeling that the followers of the dark side had gained the beginnings of a convert.

Ran was always a prankster, and had pulled off many a trick upon De-Lanna and Ascera during their journey to Mathassi. But on the return trip, he had grown increasingly distant. Though she did not know him long, De-Lanna had the distinct impression that Ran was not one for meditation—yet in the past few days, he had taken up long solitary hours in the cabins for contemplation. He was thinking of something, and whatever it was, he wanted to keep it private; even his mind was shrouded from the prying telepathy of his Jedi companions, even his own best friend. De-Lanna had the sinking feeling that she knew what he was thinking about.

If Ran ever turned to the dark side, she would have to put him down, dashing good looks or no.

"Anyway," Ran said suddenly, "let's land this garbage bin. Since we dropped Carson and Borworken back on Ord Mantell, I'll finally get a chance to practice some maneuvers." The green-eyed Jedi took the pilot's seat and strapped himself in. De-Lanna and Ascera took their own seats nearby. Ran sent the ship into an easy landing, powering down systems with ease born of a hundred flights. They settled within one of the ancient Massassi temples that served as the Jedi praxeum. Through the viewport, De-Lanna could see a black-cloaked figure waiting for them on the landing pad, radiating fatherly pride in the Force.

"Master Skywalker's waiting for us," she announced joyously.

"Then we'd better bring out the dark Jedi," Ascera said grimly, reminding her of their task. "Someone tell him to get ready for three Force-using prisoners. I'll open the cargo hold."

An hour later, the dark Jedi were under close guard, their powers nullified by neural disrupters. Master Skywalker and Ascera were deep in conversation, and De-Lanna, feeling out of place, excused herself and went to the gymnasium to release the tension building in her shoulders. A lengthy hyperspace trip in a small transport only encouraged muscle cramps, to her mind.

The gymnasium was empty, for most of the other students were hard at their lessons elsewhere. Alone in perfect silence, she went to the center of the chamber and activated her lightsaber. Its white blade—a unique color derived from the broken Jedi holocron she had installed as its focusing crystal—bathed her in its soft, warm glow. She spun the blade in her hands, reversing her grip. From that stance, she stepped into a caressing attack, switched to a swift wide stroke, flowed into a diagonal slash, doubled back and pirouetted with her blade trailing. From form to form she glided, tireless, her face drawn into tight concentration.

Her muscles loosened as they were stretched. Her body became an instrument that she played with a master's care. The weapon in her hands was nothing more than an extension of her being, a living thing wrapped in living fingers, held in living palms. It spun, wove, danced, dived, and rose as if it were the stick of a conductor, orchestrating a great symphony. It went on like that for hours.

Then she felt the presence of Master Skywalker. Her concentration faltered and she stopped, her consciousness brought back to reality. Sweat beaded her fair brow, matted her brown hair and ponytail to her neck. She was panting. "Master?" she inquired respectfully, deactivating her lightsaber and bowing low. Droplets of perspiration dropped to the gymnasium floor. She glared at the offending sweat balefully, uncomfortable at looking so bedraggled.

"At ease, De-Lanna," Skywalker said kindly. He sat on a nearby bench and motioned for her to do as well. Wiping her brow on her sleeve, she clipped her lightsaber to her belt and joined him. "Ascera reported to me all that transpired on Mathassi. I would like your take on it."

"But if she already told you, why do you need me, Master?"

"Sometimes, its better to have another perspective. This removes bias, or at least lessens it. And I have many questions."

"I will gladly answer them, Master, if I am able."

Skywalker shook his head. "These questions will be more adequately answered if they are left unspoken. I will find these answers in your account of what happened."

De-Lanna nodded with some understanding. "Very well, Master. When we arrived on Mathassi, we learned that the two native races, the Mathassar and the Quelsar, became allied to the two sides of the Force about two thousand years ago. The Mathassar learned from the Jedi led by Dalaan Norsh. The Quelsar were trained by Darth Malice, a Sith Lord who sought the energies of Mathassi for his own nefarious ends. Norsh and his Mathassar allies waged war on Malice and the Quelsar. They won, but at great cost. Norsh ultimately confronted Malice and defeated him, trapping him in a cryogenic chamber.

"Norsh then asked the Mathassar to build a Jedi Temple as a prison for Malice's frozen body. As time went on, the Mathassar Jedi died off without passing on their tradition to future generations. By the time we arrived, there were no Jedi on Mathassi, though the Jedi are still respected there. Apparently, Norsh promised to fulfill some religious prophecy of the Mathassar, called the Great Return. We were tasked with bringing about the Great Return in Norsh's absence. Our mission took first priority, though.

"We went to the Jedi Temple, where we found the three dark Jedi attempting to free Darth Malice from his cryogenic sleep. I…I fear that Marcus Tauth, their leader, said words to Ran, trying to turn him to the dark side. I think he may actually be contemplating those words." De-Lanna had drifted to a whisper at the end of her summary. She felt cold inside and she shivered.

Master Skywalker took it all in stride, pursing his lips in thought. "I will speak with Ran. Ascera expressed similar concerns about him, which is not surprising considering how close they are."

The brown-haired Jedi shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. "Master Skywalker, how close are they, anyway?" I am just curious, she thought to herself, I am just curious, nothing more.

"They've known each other since they were kids, actually. Ascera was under the protection of a Jedi Knight named Zell Oomfra at the time, and on a side trip to Coruscant, Master Oomfra found Ran. He was running with a gang in the lower levels at the time, a filthy child and petty thief living among squalor and cutthroats. He was arrested for larceny and thrown into a horrible jail cell at the age of five. Master Oomfra paid for his bail and took him with her. That was how Ran and Ascera met; they became inseparable shortly after."

"I see." De-Lanna sounded distant. "So they're like siblings, then?"

"Yes. Closer than siblings, even. They share a bond, as I share a bond with my own sister, Leia. Bonds like that are very powerful and should never be underestimated. They should also be watched over with wariness; I found accounts in our archives of bonded Jedi turning to the dark side because their partner did so—such is the power of the bonds."

De-Lanna's eyes widened and breathed, "Then Ascera is in danger as well." The brown-haired Jedi did not particularly like the aloof, overly serene Twi'lek, finding her higher-than-thou attitude hard to swallow, but she did not want to lose a fellow Jedi to the dark side.

"Do not fear for Ascera," Skywalker told her. "She is a strong girl, and her concern for Ran will be her shield against the dark side's pull. Compassion is what separates the light and dark sides most, De-Lanna. Remember this."

"Yes, Master." She paused for a moment. "Master, did you find the answers you sought?"

"A few." Skywalker suddenly stood, brushing his slacks smooth. "I think that's enough philosophy for the day. But think about what I've said. Thank you for bearing with me about the Mathassi mission."

De-Lanna stood as well. "You're welcome, Master Skywalker. If you'll excuse me, I'll head for the refreshers."

Her shower gave her time to think about the events on Mathassi. Sitting in the refresher, letting the water dribble pleasingly down her back, breasts, and chin, she could clearly see the Rodian dark Jedi, Quid Carm, in her mind's eye. The insect-like face, the beady faceted eyes, the snarling tapered snout. But above all, she could feel the cold, ruthless determination as he advanced on her and Ran. His crimson lightsaber hewn down the cemetery headstones around them, his black boots crunched atop the snow. But his eyes were set, hard and unrelenting, as were his blows.

She remembered the pain most clearly. A kick to her throat, bruising it, a blast of Force power to her midriff that hurtled her into a gravestone, almost breaking her back. De-Lanna shivered under the hot spray of the shower. Never before had she been so close to death. Ran managed to defeat Carm, but was almost killed because of her. That nail drove harder and truer than any other—that she was almost a fatal liability.

"Pull yourself together," she mumbled to herself. "You are a Jedi, so act like it." But her words rang hollow in her ears. She toweled herself dry and donned her customary leathers, cinching her belt tight around her tabard. "Pull yourself together," she repeated, breathing slowly to relax. "It was just your first mission. Things can happen to the inexperienced. This was a learning experience, nothing more." But the bite of failure still gnawed at her soul.

De-Lanna returned to the gymnasium to meditate, finding a place symbolic of activity more to her liking whenever she attempted to center herself. To her surprise, she found Ran already there, working through lightsaber routines. Though she was a skilled swordswoman and was proud of that fact, she respected the green-eyed Jedi—infuriating though he may be—as a fellow warrior. He possessed surprising flexibility and almost instinctual cunning on the battlefield.

But he was using new maneuvers that she had never seen before. Even more surprising, he was using two lightsabers, his own and a low-energy practice weapon. The two blades spun in stilted disharmony. He was working through codified steps, she could tell, but he had not yet perfected the motion of fighting with two long weapons.

"Where'd you learn that?" she asked.

He turned to face her, his brow glistening. "I read about it in one of the holocrons we found."

Suspicion bored into De-Lanna's heart. "The one you took from Tauth?"

The green-eyed Jedi was hesitant, but ultimately replied a single, toneless affirmative. "Why did you take it, anyway?" she pressed.

"It's got a lot of knowledge that's been forgotten," he explained, almost defensively. "Knowledge that can be used for good. Take this, for example. I'm using an archaic fighting style that hasn't been seen in centuries. It's a good style. With two lightsabers, I can attack and defend at the same time. I'll be better at protecting people with this."

"'A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge, never for attack,'" she quoted sternly. "And you learned that style from a Sith holocron, no less! They see it simply a tool to kill with, not to protect others."

Ran shrugged. "I don't intend to use it to kill needlessly. Besides, if we are afraid to delve into the dark side, to learn of it and its dangers, then how are we to protect ourselves against it? We can't sit here in an ivory tower forever, De-Lanna." he shot back harshly. De-Lanna winced at the vitriol in his voice and it seemed that even Ran was surprised at his own tone. But he pressed on with his defense. "I just read a little bit from the holocron, anyway, enough to understand the basics of a two-weapon fighting style. Many people use it, anyway: gunslingers, knife fighters. Why not Jedi?"

"Ran—"

He made a cutting gesture with one lightsaber, silencing her. "Tauth was right about some things. The Jedi are too cloistered, at least right now. Maybe the Old Republic Jedi were better off, but they had to travel to protect all those worlds. All of us are still in training. But we should be out there, protecting people!"

"But like you said, we're just students. We're not ready for that. Force, we almost got killed on Mathassi!"

"So? Ascera and I have been on scores of missions already and we've had just as many brushes with death as Master Skywalker himself! That makes us strong, makes us strive to become better."

"That's a big risk you'll be running, throwing your life on the line like that. Ascera or Master Skywalker won't like that kind of mindset. I certainly don't."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I feel this in my bones, De-Lanna. You wouldn't know, this being your first mission. I've seen that galaxy, lived in it. I didn't have the luxury of being cooped up in this academy day in and day out like you. Ascera and I had to survive out there, barely half-trained. And we did." He deactivated his lightsabers, tossed the practice weapon onto a nearby rack, clipped his own to his belt, and strode out of the gymnasium.

"I think I liked you better when you were just a pain in the rear," she whispered as he passed her. He stopped momentarily, then left without a word.

Thus it went for the next several days. Ran distanced himself from the others, even his longtime friend, Ascera Dax. Many times De-Lanna saw him leave shortly before dawn, heading deep into the jungles, which were fraught with their own dangers and predators. He would always return around supper, dirty and bedraggled, sometimes with his tunic matted with blood. But he would say nothing of his adventures in the wilds, other than that he needed to meditate in an environment more stimulating than the "ivory tower" of the academy.

Master Skywalker had gone to him, De-Lanna knew, but what words they said were unknown to her—or any other. But she saw the tension in the Master's eyes, and she suspected that Ran had rebuffed him, harshly. Ascera grew more and more worried for her best friend, for he evaded even her companionship. As the Twi'lek's concerns developed, so did De-Lanna's wariness. Ran became colder, harder as the days wore on since their return from Mathassi. Though she felt nothing more than grim determination from him, she believed him falling closer and closer to the precipice between the light and the dark.

Later, De-Lanna found Ascera in a high tree at the edge of the academy grounds. She joined her with a Force-assisted leap into the boughs. "What're you doing up here?" she asked, adding, "It'll be lunch soon." Ascera simply pointed below, to a clearing where Ran was dancing with a long-handled lightsaber. "Did he make that recently?" De-Lanna asked. The Twi'lek nodded.

The blue blade of Ran's lightsaber slashed through the foliage with lightning speed. He moved with catlike grace, his feet always in the right place and his body in perfect balance. Suddenly, a second blade slashed into the air, erupting from the other end of the long hilt. The double-bladed lightsaber spun in wild, yet still beautiful, arcs, slicing trees, branches, vines, and leaves with unerring precision.

The brown-haired Jedi sucked in a breath, awed by the display. "So he's learned the style," she murmured. "He must have continued reading the Sith holocron he took from Tauth."

She saw Ascera close her eyes, her face wrinkling in pain. "What's wrong?" De-Lanna asked gently, though she already knew the answer.

"It's Ran. He's so confused now. Damn fool, he just had to listen to Tauth, didn't he? And now this—he's built a lightsaber that is truly a weapon of war." She rubbed her eyes and sniffed. "He was so proud of his old one, too. He had wild time getting the crystals he needed for it, I remember." She sounded wistful and nostalgic…and as if she were mourning the death of a friend.

De-Lanna saw another side of the normally composed, regal Twi'lek. She saw deep, genuine concern, a deep and abiding familial love, and sorrow at the thought of losing her closest companion. No longer did Ascera seem an aloof statue to her, but a person with complexities she only began to realize. Impulsively, De-Lanna took Ascera's hand in her own and gave it a comforting squeeze. The Twi'lek returned it, gladly.

"You know, I actually wanted to talk to you about him," De-Lanna admitted, with a slight blush.

Ascera looked at her in surprise. She must have noticed the coloring, for she said, "Don't tell me you're actually starting to like him."

De-Lanna's blush stole to the roots of her hair. "Nothing of the sort!" she assured her. "Its just…I'm suddenly afraid of him, of what he's becoming. And Master Skywalker told me about your bond with him, and how you may turn to the dark side, should Ran do so."

"It's a valid fear, and one I myself have entertained with dread. But Ran's always been stubborn when he thinks he's in the right. His instincts usually serve him well on such matters, but this…."

They were silent for a time, simply watching Ran below, cutting through nature like a whirlwind. Then De-Lanna said, "You know, I didn't really like you at first, Ascera. I thought you were so high-and-mighty, always trying to put yourself above the rest of us. I wondered how Ran could stand you at times."

The Twi'lek chuckled. "You know, I thought the same about you. Always stuck-up and arrogant because of your Nexus technique and all the other skills you've developed. I admit, I'm a little bit jealous of your command of the Force. You're very strong. I also wondered how Ran could stand you."

The two Jedi shared a laugh. "I guess this means we're friends now, huh?" Ascera said wonderingly.

"I suppose so. And friends are supposed to take care of their friends' friends." The brown-haired Jedi looked down at Ran meaningfully. "He won't listen to us, you know that."

Ascera shrugged. "He's always been like that. He insists on learning by doing, even—no, especially—if someone's already gone through it."

"We won't let him fall, Ascera. Ever."

* * *

The alarm rang loudly, cutting through the silence of night like a dread axe. De-Lanna sprang awake in her bunk, hitting her head against the bed above. She swore softly, rubbing her offended forehead. Her roommate, a diminutive Chadra-Fan named Ekra, dropped from her bedding to the floor. "What's going on?" she asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

The brown-haired Jedi threw aside her blankets and haphazardly donned her clothes. "Security alarm," she announced, stating the obvious. "Come on, let's go check it out." Lightsabers in hand, the two females sprinted out of their room and into the hallway, where other bunkmates had gathered. All were heading out into the courtyard, where the alarms were loudest. De-Lanna skidded to a stop as soon as she stepped into the moonlight.

Beneath the stars, shrouded in night's cool darkness, four figures danced. All wore dark cloaks, three black, one blue. Three wielded blazing red blades, the fourth two blue ones. Ran was fighting the dark Jedi alone.

"Damn, that one really is an idiot!" De-Lanna grunted, igniting her own white blade, a stark contrast to the darkness. She charged forth, coming to the aid of her fellow Jedi. Her blade blocked Quid Carm's lightsaber, just barely stopping it from taking Ran's head.

"What are you doing here?" Ran snarled, busily spinning his newly constructed lightsaber in a hard arc, batting away Leena's vicious barrage.

"Saving you from your own stupidity!" she answered back. Marcus Tauth slashed for her head, a blow she easily ducked. Her riposte was parried by his reverse backhand.

Ran's eyes blazed with green fire in the starlight and lightsaber glow. "I have it under control." He slammed down the Rodian's stab. "I cut off one hand, ugly," he said to the dark warrior, "do you want me to take the other?" He followed his words with a head-butt, knocking the Rodian to the ground.

But the move cost him. Tauth, with a wild laugh, slashed fast and hard, his red weapon striking the green-eyed Jedi across the cheek. Ran cried out and fell back, just barely regaining his composure in time to deflect a side attack from Leena.

"Carm!" Tauth yelled suddenly, "Take a ship, and hurry! The other Jedi come." The Rodian stood and, with Force-assisted speed, sprinted off, heading for the landing pads. De-Lanna swore. She did not want to abandon Ran against the likes of Tauth and Leena, but had little choice. Carm was obviously trying to acquire an escape transport.

De-Lanna let the Force flow into her, envisioning a one-in-a-million event: Carm tripping over his own feet. The swirling threads of fate suddenly became fixed, frigid, held by her will alone. The Nexus she possessed became manifest, and Carm fell with a grunt. De-Lanna, panting from her mental exertion, pushed her body further, running up to the dark warrior just as he was regaining his feet.

She fell on him with a fierce lightsaber assault. He barely raised his blade in time to block. He was clearly the better fighter: more experienced, faster, stronger. But he was at a great disadvantage, since Ran had cut off his sword-hand on Mathassi. Fighting with his off-hand, without another hand for balance, the Rodian struggled to keep up his defense. De-Lanna knew that she just had to wait for an opening, and victory would be hers.

And then the lightning struck her back. Fire erupted up her spring, smoke filled her nostrils. She gagged at the stench of her own burning flesh. With an agonized cry, she dropped to her knees, fighting back tears. Tauth had abandoned his battle with Ran to launch his lightning. Carm only had to bring his lightsaber to bear to end De-Lanna's life. She waited for the coming blow.

But Carm had spared her, instead running toward the ships on the landing pad. By the time her muscles had ceased their debilitating spasms, the Rodian was already in the air, sailing back with the landing ramp half-down. She saw Leena leap into the air, her feet lightly touching the ramp. She saw Ran make a last slash at Tauth as the old man joined his apprentices on the stolen vessel, but the green-eyed Jedi cut only black cloth. The ship flew higher and higher, disappearing amongst the stars.

De-Lanna let out a sigh, feeling failure seep into her bones. She had him, had Carm under her blade, but she grew careless and left herself open to a stab in the back. Strong hands touched her shoulders, helped her stand up.

"Are you all right?" Ran asked. There was no witty quip waiting on his tongue, no carefree childishness in his green eyes. There was only genuine concern…and an alien grimness that sent a shock into her spine.

"I'm all right," she answered, clearing her throat and swallowing to wet her suddenly dry throat. She looked again into those eyes, and found the barrenness instantly replaced by a familiar, boyish glint.

"That's good," he said. "You know, I've always wanted to save a damsel in distress."

She reflexively elbowed him in the stomach. He doubled over. "Excuse me, but you didn't save me from anything. I got _electrocuted_, after all."

"Don't I get partial credit for trying?"

She only glared at him. "What in the Core Worlds were you doing, anyway?" she demanded sternly, one hand on her hip. "Fighting three dark Jedi like that is nothing short of suicide!"

To his credit, he affected a sheepish expression, throwing his arms behind his head the way he always did. "I was just coming back from some late-night training in the jungle," he explained, "when I sensed that Tauth was up to something. I went over to the pens to investigate."

"Odd," the brown-eyed Jedi noted, "I didn't feel anything. From the looks of it, no one else did either, not even the Masters, or else they would've been out here before everyone else."

Ran just shrugged. "I wouldn't know about any of that. I'm telling you, I sensed it. And I was right. Tauth apparently broke past the neural disrupter on his neck, dominated the minds of the guards watching over his cell, and had them bring him their lightsabers. I arrived just as Tauth killed the guards and freed his apprentices. That's when I started fighting them. I tripped the alarm as soon as I could."

"Ascera isn't going to be happy with you," De-Lanna observed. "I don't know what antics you got into with her, but this has _got_ to be the top of them all."

Ran only smiled winsomely. "You're probably right. Say, you seem to know me pretty well all of a sudden. Guess I must be making an impression on you, eh?"

He strode up closer to her, uncomfortably so. It was the first time it really registered in her mind just how tall he was; her head barely reached his chest. The closeness made her blush fiercely and she was suddenly glad that the night hid her reaction. "Impression this, you nerf-herder," she growled, stomping on his foot and striding off in an indignant huff. She heard a pained chuckle behind her, encouraging her to walk faster—anything to get away from the infuriating Ran Tonno-Skeve.

The debacle over, the Jedi students returned to their bunks, though the Masters and Jedi Knights maintained patrols throughout the night, just in case their enemies decided to return. De-Lanna slept restlessly, her dreams a mixed whirlwind of emotions and images. Quid Carm's fearsome visage, the scorching pain of lightning, the cold snows of Mathassi, the poisonous sensation of the dark side, Ran's lips upon hers, Ran's hands upon her shoulders, his warm body near hers, the eerily pleasant feeling of temptation.

When she awoke, she was very grouchy indeed.

The computer sitting on her desk blinked, indicating that a message had recently come in. She slipped out of the comfort of her bed, her bare legs suddenly very aware of the chill of the stone floor. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, and the monitor turned on. Master Skywalker's face appeared.

"De-Lanna, forgive me for intruding on your morning routines, but I must speak with you in my office later in the morning. I expect that you will be prompt." The message ended. She sighed and stretched, immediately regretting it. Tight muscles and Force-healed flesh screamed in protest; her back had not yet fully recovered from the night's trials.

But she steadfastly donned her leathers, girded her lightsaber, and walked to Master Skywalker's office. She found Ascera and Ran standing by the doors. "Good morning," she greeted in a subdued voice, taking the opportunity to give the green-eyed Jedi a scathing glance. He only smirked innocently.

"Good morning," Ascera said in her typically aloof way. Though they had shared a moment of bonding, De-Lanna suspected that the Twi'lek wanted to reserve her full trust for those she knew were worthy of it. The brown-haired Jedi did not mind; she would do the same thing in her place. "Master Skywalker seems to want to talk to us about Mathassi."

"What makes you say that?" De-Lanna inquired, though she, too, had come to the same conclusion.

"It's the only reason why he'd call the three of us in particular," Ascera reasoned. "After all, I wasn't involved in last night's attack, so I wouldn't have been called if that was what he wanted to talk about."

The door opened and Master Skywalker showed them in. They sat at his desk, upon which lay several of the holocrons liberated from the Mathassi Jedi Temple.

"Master," Ascera asked, being unusually forward, "please forgive my boldness, but have you learned anything of import from those holocrons?" De-Lanna hid back a smile; she had noticed that for all of her Jedi calm, Ascera become little more than giddy schoolgirl at the very thought of learning more about the romantic Jedi heroes of the Old Republic.

Master Skywalker apparently held the same observations, for he said kindly, "Nothing of the great Vodo-Siosk Baas, or the equally respected Qel-Droma brothers, or Nomi Sunrider, I'm afraid. However, there were, among other things, healing techniques stored on the holocrons. A student of mine, a Mon Cal named Cilghal, seems to show particular affinity in the healing arts. She will benefit greatly from the knowledge in these holocrons."

He clasped his hands and laid them on the desk. "Firstly, I'd like to thank the three of you for braving the unknown regions of space to bring these to me. We are still deciphering the older texts, but as with the documents on healing, we have already discerned several useful accounts and teaching aides. You have done well."

De-Lanna swelled with pride, and she saw Ran and, to a subtler degree, Ascera, do the same.

Master Skywalker grew stern. "But last night's events have brought things into a new light. The Force is growing darker as Tauth and his apprentices continue to hatch their dark plans. You told me that they had gone to Mathassi to learn from the Sith Lord imprisoned there, following directions encrypted on an ancient Sith holocron. I can only surmise that they have returned there to complete the deed."

"And we must stop them," De-Lanna reasoned. "But if they've already gone back, they had almost half a day on us. None of our ships are any faster than the one they stole, not in hyperspace."

"Speed will not be an issue," the Jedi Master assured her. "Last night, I asked a friend of mine, the crime lord Talon Karrde, to loan me a transport ship fast enough to overtake any ship in hyperspace. He will arrive within the hour. You have that time to pack your things."


	6. Poisoned Stars, Ch 2

Chapter Two: Poisoned Souls 

De-Lanna was just about to zip her backpack closed when a knock sounded on her door. She was alone; Ekra had left hours ago for history lessons under Master Tionne. "Come in," the brown-haired Jedi called. Her door opened and she suddenly felt hands around her waist.

Startled, she spun to face the fool—Ran, little to her surprise—and bumped hard into a table. Her backpack fell to the floor. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, trying to gain the advantage in the encounter.

"Just saying hello to my fellow travel-mate," he replied easily, placing one hand on the table at either side of her, effectively trapping her. "So hello."

"Yes, yes," she said, forcing down a blush at his closeness. "Hello yourself. Now, would you kindly back off? You smell like bantha poo-doo."

"Oh really now? I just got back from the jungle; I thought I'd smell fresh and woody. You know, pleasant."

In truth, he did smell like the peaceful outdoors, but De-Lanna was not about to admit it to him. "Look, just…just let me go, okay? You make me uncomfortable."

He pouted, looking very ridiculous. "Well, you're no fun. You could at least play along, you know. Then you'd lighten up and enjoy yourself, instead of being such crabby old maid."

A vein appeared on her temple, pumping slightly. "What did you just call me? Crabby old maid?" A dark light glistened in her blue eyes. "Oh, you're really asking for it now, Ran Tonno-Skeve!"

He let go of the table, raising his hands defensively. A mocking smile was splayed across his lips. "Please don't hurt me, Lady Tamaran!" he begged in a falsetto. "Or if you are…please be gentle." He punctuated the line with a leer.

"You're really starting to push my buttons," she warned nastily.

"Oh, I think I can push your buttons all right," he replied, "you just got to let me."

"I'm three seconds from breaking your nose!"

"There is no emotion, De-Lanna," he countered, smiling even wider.

"Two seconds!"

"You wouldn't."

"Last chance!"

"You're beautiful, did you know that?"

De-Lanna allowed herself a small moment of satisfaction as her fist crashed into Ran's cheek, whipping his head around and knocking him into a wall. "I warned you about being fresh with me, buster."

But he just laughed at her, rubbing his bruised cheek gingerly. "Yeah, but it was damn worth it. Come on, I'm not such a bad guy, am I?"

"No, but you sure are irritating. I'm surprised Ascera hasn't murdered you herself yet, because I'm about to—and don't think your pretty eyes are going to save you."

"So you think I have pretty eyes, do you?"

"You're really asking me to kill you, aren't you?"

"You don't mean that, of course." He walked right back to her, once again standing very, very close. "You might think I'm just another monkey-lizard skirt-chaser—and you'd be right on some level—but I'm only this tenacious when its someone I seriously admire."

His hand touched hers and her heart skipped a beat. "You mean that?" she breathed.

"I'm a prankster, I'm irresponsible, and I'm a pain, but I'm not a liar."

She laughed at his assessment of his merits. "You know, that's strangely comforting."

"So does this mean you'll fall madly in love with me?"

She shoved him against the wall, pressing herself close against him. She leaned in, her lips just about to brush against his—and then she hit him in the jaw with a fierce uppercut.

"Of course not, nerf-herder." She picked up her backpack and walked out of the room.

The return trip to Mathassi was replete with similar episodes. If Ran was not trying to seduce De-Lanna in the cabins, he was doing so in the mess, outside the refresher, or in the cargo hold. Each time, the brown-haired Jedi simply rebuffed him with a punch and a smile. She had to admit though, as much entertainment as she was gleaning from dealing unspeakable physical punishment to the mischievous rogue, she was finding their exchanges humorous in their own right. It became a game, and her strikes became more playful and less painful.

Ascera, as was her wont, simply maintained her aloof Jedi calm and shook her head in resignation at their combined antics.

As they drew closer to their destination, De-Lanna overheard Ran asking the Twi'lek, "I recall that you wanted to check on Master Skywalker's records. Did you ever get the answers you wanted?"

"I wanted to learn more about the Mathassi and Dalaan Norsh, the Jedi who purportedly protected them and defeated Darth Malice," she replied. "There was no mention of the former, but there was a file about the latter. Jedi Norsh was, as we heard back on Mathassi, a renegade who was respected by the Jedi Order, even if he tended to go his own way. However, Norsh never reported back from his trip to Mathassi. Many in the Council thought him dead, slain by Malice."

"A discrepancy in the historical records? A flaw developed from the passing of time?" De-Lanna ventured, though she did not put much stock in the idea.

Ascera shook her head. "More likely that something happened to Norsh on his return to civilized space and the Council never found out."

"And this disturbs you why?" Ran inquired.

Ascera's headtails quivered in thought. "There's something amiss about all of this. I still feel like we're missing a crucial piece of the greater puzzle."

"Well," the green-eyed Jedi said loftily, "as the story of the philosopher-king Bethadies goes, all you have to do is look at the obvious to find the mysterious. That was how he discovered the secret kingdom of Aklitos—by just looking under a rock he sat on every day of his life."

"I'll keep that in mind, Ran." A red light flashed on the flight panels. "We're dropping out of hyperspace. There it is again, Mathassi."

De-Lanna let out a sigh of longing. "We were just here, but it still takes my breath away."

Ran took the ship around toward the coordinates of the Jedi Temple. He settled the transport right by the cemetery where they had faced off against Quid Carm, where De-Lanna had witnessed Ran slice off the Rodian's hand. The ship shuddered as its landing routines worked themselves to completion. The landing ramp dropped down and cold wind cut into the Jedi trio with unrelenting ferocity. De-Lanna's teeth chattered. "Damn," she murmured, pulling her cloak around her. "Just when I was growing to appreciate the view, too."

Weeks had passed since they last visited these holy grounds, but nothing had changed in the slightest, or so it seemed. They took a step toward the grand, yet decaying, Temple doors—and Ascera fell to her knees, crying out in pain and clutching her head. Ran went to her side and De-Lanna drew her lightsaber, its white blade flashing to life; she looked around warily for whatever had weakened the Twi'lek.

"I'm all right," Ascera assured them on unsteady feet. "I just felt something very powerful, very dark…." The ground started to tremble and it seemed as if the whole mountain would collapse in on itself.

De-Lanna suddenly felt a thousand kilos heavier; it was impossible to move her arms or legs, and it became exceedingly difficult to simply breathe. "Something's…pushing us…down," she gasped, falling to one knee. Her lightsaber dropped from her hand, its blade vanishing. It sank into the snow with an audible thud.

"Some form of telekinesis," Ascera reasoned, struggling to remain standing. Her efforts were valiant, but futile; she struck the snow face-first. She turned her head so that she could speak. "Whatever is doing this…is…incredibly…powerful!"

Ran let out a cry and crashed onto his back, grunting as countless kilos of force pushed him down, crushed his chest. "It can't be…Darth Malice?"

Then, as abruptly as it came, the sensation disappeared.

Breathing heavily, the three Jedi regained their feet and looked to the monolithic structure of the Temple. The dark side was no longer hidden to their senses. After that display of power, something dark and fearsome exuded a palpable sensation of evil and foreboding through the walls, the snow, and the very air. De-Lanna saw a vision in the Force: Of a handsome, roguish human with a thick beard, clashing his blue lightsaber against the glowing red of a masked warrior. Blood matted the bearded man's homespun robes, as it darkened the black garments of the enigmatic swordsman. She knew with unsettling certainty that Darth Malice, Dark Lord of the Sith, had been freed.

* * *

The three Jedi made their way directly to the cryogenic chamber below, where they had confronted Marcus Tauth and his apprentices before the frozen prison of the Sith Lord. As they had dreaded, the cryogenic chamber lay open, white smoky gas pouring onto the stone floor, giving the circular room an unnatural chill. Their breaths misted before them.

"Your senses in the Force are sharpest of us all, Ascera," Ran said. "Do you feel anything?"

The Twi'lek nodded. "Beyond that door over there is our foe. I'm sure of it."

"You can't be serious about fighting a Dark Lord of the Sith!" De-Lanna exclaimed. "Even with three of us, I can't imagine that it would be difficult for Darth Malice to simply crush us with his telekinesis, like he did up there."

Ascera only nodded again. "But we cannot let him roam free, either. It is our duty as Jedi to stop this menace at any cost." Her tone was grim, her expression set and resolute.

De-Lanna took upon her example and strode boldly toward that door, swallowing her rapidly growing fear of the great darkness that lay beyond. Her hand was only centimeters from the handle when the portal exploded in a shower of rent iron and crushed stone. The brown-haired Jedi fell back, her lightsaber flaring to life, burning away the debris that flew at her face. Two red slashes of light appeared in the doorway, illuminating the determined faces of Quid Carm and Leena.

"Them again!" Ran hissed. "So they were lying in waiting." With two swift clicks of a button, two identical blue blades hummed in his hands.

"You shall not pass," the Rodian growled stalwartly, gripping his lightsaber with two hands—one of them a steel replacement.

"We won't let you interrupt our master," the Twi'lek dark Jedi said. She brought her blade to bear in a neutral stance. "Come, Jedi, show us your strength or die at our feet."

A breath later, the chamber was engulfed in war.

De-Lanna and Ascera launched their assault on the closest foe, the Twi'lek Leena. The older woman was faster than the two Jedi, parrying their strikes with near-contemptuous speed. Soon, Leena was gaining the upper hand, forcing them back with her wild, strong blows. But De-Lanna suddenly tumbled away, disengaging from the fight. She closed down her weapon and shut her eyes, falling within herself.

The threads of destiny swirled into her hands, reforming itself into the cloth of her will. She envisioned Ascera driving forward with a desperate thrust, saw Leena strive to step away from the killing blow—only to bump her shoulder into the wall, giving Ascera an opportunity at victory. Fantasy soon became reality, and the dark Jedi's heart stopped, a glowing blue lightsaber blade imbedded in her breast.

Ascera drew her weapon free with a flourish and clipped it to her belt. "Thanks, De-Lanna," she said. The brown-haired Jedi simply nodded.

Behind them, Ran spun his double-bladed lightsaber so fast that they could only see a continuous blue circle around him. His feet slid across the stone floor effortlessly and in perfect balance. Carm fought back bravely, parrying the green-eyed Jedi's fierce, ceaseless barrage. But it was obvious who would win in the end. The Rodian tired and his guard slipped. Ran, his back to his opponent, stabbed behind him with the end of his weapon, driving a blue blade into the dark Jedi's midriff, slaying his foe in a final blow. With an almost uncaring gesture, the green-eyed Jedi hurtled the corpse through the air with a Force blast.

De-Lanna did not look at his face; she knew that his usually bright eyes would be dulled and void. She thought she could feel a piece of him die inside—he had claimed that he did not kill needlessly, yet he had just unhesitatingly taken a life.

"Onward," he said coolly, ignoring the two bodies on the floor. "Tauth and that Sith Lord are still out there." He strode for the ruined portal, and when he passed by her, De-Lanna shivered.

Ascera touched her shoulder and shook her head. "We're losing him," she said simply and coolly, even though an unfathomable sadness lay hidden in her eyes.

"We won't," the brown-haired Jedi protested. "I'm not going to see a fellow Jedi fall to the dark side. It's our duty as Jedi Knights—as friends—to bring him back. We have to talk to him."

"No."

De-Lanna spun to face the Twi'lek, shocked and uncomprehending. "What? How can you, of all people, say that? He grew up with you!" She was shouting by the end of her tirade.

Ascera took it all in stride and calmly replied, "Right now, his anger is giving him strength. It's destroying him, yes, bringing him ever closer to the darkness. But in this place, we need that raw power. I don't like this any more than you do." She suddenly hugged herself, her lips trembling; her composure was falling apart. "But I don't know any other way to go about this."

"At least talk to him!" De-Lanna cried.

"Damn it, don't you think I want to?" Tears flowed down blue skin, glistening in the poor lighting of the Temple. "I've known him all my life. He's the brother I've never had. I want nothing more than to protect him from this! He's already been through so much as a child, and the last thing he needs is a fight with the dark side. But we don't have a choice—we need every trump card we have if we're to beat Tauth and that Sith Lord. So don't you lecture me, De-Lanna Tamaran! I love Ran with all my heart—as a friend, as a brother." Ascera took in a deep breath and shouted, "So don't you _dare_ lecture me!"

She was crying rivulets, unchecked, unnoticed. Hysteria lurked in her eyes, on the verge of release. De-Lanna could not look at her; Ascera Dax always seemed to be in control of herself, but here she was, a heartbeat from collapse. "We…um," the brown-haired Jedi began falteringly. She cleared her throat and tried again. "We better get going." She matched words to action, heading through the broken doors and deeper into the Temple. Soft footsteps behind her indicated that Ascera was following.

Ran stood at the base of a long, crumbling flight of stairs. "What took you?" he asked. His green gaze swept down into the darkness. "I'm not very good at sensing things in the Force, but even I can feel it. They're down there, all right." He reached into his belt pouch and drew forth a small glow rod, igniting it and shining its yellow-white beam down the stairs. Without preamble, he strode onward.

De-Lanna lit her own glow rod, keeping her lightsaber in hand, her thumb lightly touching the activation switch. With a dark side master and a Sith Lord nearby, she wanted to be prepared for the inevitable battle.

The stairs led to a maze of corridors that cut between racks upon racks of mummified bodies—a vast catacomb of Jedi who long since became one with the Force. De-Lanna imagined that there had once been a sense of peace and power upon these most sacred of grounds, but she could only feel the sickening morass of the dark side. She wanted to scrub her skin, so foul was the air to her bristling senses.

They followed that fetid sensation through the winding pathways, past hundreds of shrouded bodies. Centuries of dust kicked up with each step they took, forcing them to cover their mouths with their cloaks. De-Lanna's eyes stung from the dirt that got past her garments. She found her breath stifled and coughed lightly.

And then they turned a corner. There, at a dead end, huddled a naked man. His beard was frosted, as if from some great chill, and he shivered uncontrollably. The dark side emanated from him like heat from an ion engine…but De-Lanna did not feel Tauth anywhere nearby. The only darkness she could feel was from this strange man. When the light of their glow rods flashed upon him, he panicked, staring at them with wild, frightened eyes like an animal.

"Get away! Away!" he growled with feral abandon. He struck out his hand, and Ascera let out a yelp of surprise as her lightsaber unhooked itself from her belt, flying into his hand. The blue blade sprang to fiery life, and he charged with a loud battle cry. De-Lanna stepped to the fore, her white blade trapping his in a tight lock. With the ease of an expert fighter, she tucked her foot behind his leading leg and bashed her forehead against his nose. He fell back, lost his balance against her calf, and tumbled to the ground. She placed her glowing weapon against his chest, letting him feel its heat. Ascera calmly called her lightsaber back to her hand and returned it to her belt.

"Darth Malice, I presume?" the Twi'lek asked peremptorily.

The man's reaction was unexpected, to say the least. His bright eyes flashed with raw, irrational hatred. Blue-white lightning erupted from his flesh, striking walls, floor, and ceiling, chopping off whole blocks of stone in its blazing fury. "I'll kill him, I swear I will! For all he's done, I swear I'll put a blade into his foul heart!" Suddenly a calm swept over his bearded face and rational thought seemed to return to him. "There…there is no emotion," he said quietly, hopefully.

On impulse, De-Lanna replied, "There is peace." The dark energy that set a pall in the catacombs abated somewhat, as if a great dam had been opened, releasing the foul waters elsewhere. The evil still lingered, but its intensity had diminished.

His eyes closed in relief and he dropped his head to the dusty ground. Sensing no further hostility, the brown-haired Jedi extinguished her blade and let him sit up. She handed him her cloak to cover himself. "So," the man bellowed, "the Jedi Council saw fit to send investigators out to find me, eh?"

"If not Darth Malice, then Dalaan Norsh," Ascera amended. At the man's nod, she said, "This answers some questions and creates yet even more."

"Okay," Ran interrupted, sounding nonplussed, "For the dim lightsabers in the group, could someone explain what's going on?" Inwardly, De-Lanna suppressed a smile; he suddenly seemed more like his old self and less like the nightmarish dark side monster she feared he would become.

Ascera seemed to feel the same, for her lip twitched in a half-smile; her headtails practically danced with joy. "This whole time we thought that Darth Malice was inside the cryogenic chamber and that Dalaan Norsh had been the one who contracted the Mathassar to build the Temple," the Twi'lek said. "But something felt wrong—there was no logical reason to suspect duplicity, but the Force trembled with imbalance somehow. The truth of the matter is that Dalaan Norsh—this man here—was the one imprisoned this whole time, which begs two questions: why was Norsh here and what happened to Darth Malice?"

"I can answer part of that," the bearded man, Dalaan Norsh, said, standing. "I was sent by the Jedi Council to apprehend Darth Malice. We chased him to the world of Mathassar, which, based on your words, I'm assuming is where we still are. I confronted the Dark Lord in his fortress, where I found him completing the final stages of a Sith superweapon. Among those components was a high-grade freeze-coolant system. I intended to use the coolant device as a makeshift cryogenic chamber, pushing Malice in and thus taking him alive. But he turned the tables on me and pushed me in instead."

"But that doesn't explain how this Temple was built," De-Lanna noted. "According to Mathassar lore, _you_ were the one who emerged from the fortress to commission this Jedi Temple as the ultimate safeguard against the frozen body of Darth Malice."

Norsh just shrugged. "I know not. Now it is my turn to have my curiosity sated. For starters, how long have I been in this…place, this Jedi Temple? Next, who are you and why hasn't the Council acted sooner to find me? Surely they would have sensed any deception as to whoever is using my identity."

The three Jedi looked at each other, finding no easy way to brook their answer. Ran, in his usual boldness, bluntly answered, "You've been missing for two thousand years, and the Jedi Order as you know it—Knights, Masters, and Council—is no more. They were destroyed by a Sith Lord named Palpatine decades ago."

Ascera continued, "We are members of the new Jedi Order, sent here on a mission of learning. Instead of finding holocrons filled with ancient Jedi techniques long lost to the galaxy, we find a people who revere the Jedi Knights, a lost Jedi, and a missing Sith Lord. And this is where we stand."

De-Lanna watched Norsh's reaction to the news. For a man displaced in time, who just heard the tale of his entire universe turned upside down, he seemed to take the stunning pronouncement well. With a level of composure that would shame even Ascera, the bearded Jedi noted with dry humor, "Clearly, my nap was longer than anticipated."

"That's the understatement of the cycle," Ran murmured humorlessly.

Norsh shook his head. "I mourn the loss of my fellows, and mourn even more that I find myself here, so far removed from everything I've ever known. But I trust this to be the will of the Force." He looked up at the group. "So, young Jedi, care to tell me what brings you to this remote place?"

Ascera spoke tersely, with a bit of a suspicious edge that De-Lanna found disquieting. "A dark side master named Marcus Tauth, who learned the ways of the Force from one of Malice's Sith holocrons, came to this Temple to revive the Dark Lord so that he could learn the ultimate Sith arts from him. We're here to stop him. But we've come to a crossroads with no direction; Darth Malice is not in his cryogenic chamber as we had assumed and Tauth is nowhere to be found."

Suddenly, he smiled. "You have no need to worry about that, young Jedi. You see, if this Tauth wants to learn the Sith arts, then there's one place to go that's just as good as Malice himself—the Dark Lord's fortress. And I know how to get there." He spread out his hands widely, a grand gesture. "It seems that this humble Jedi Knight will be of service to you on your mission. Surely our meeting must be the will of the Force."

De-Lanna ran a hand across the scorched stonework and looked at the bearded man warily. "Is it the will of the Force to wield Force lightning with impunity?" Her question was barbed.

Norsh blinked, as if he did not recall unleashing the electrical storm. "The dark side is strong here," he intoned with a shrug, implying that it was the only possible explanation. "I can only surmise that it must be so strong as to amplify any negative emotion into dark power. I apologize for the…outburst. I am but a Jedi Knight, and only recently appointed that rank when I came here to Mathassi. My ability to resist the dark side is still fledgling."

De-Lanna was not so easily convinced. The dark side was truly strong here, that was true, but she had seen no evidence to substantiate Norsh's theory. For one, she thought, Ran hasn't been throwing around lightning bolts yet, and he's the most emotionally trigger-happy of all of us. And for the other, there was still that unexplainable radiation of the dark side from Dalaan Norsh. Something did not add up, De-Lanna mused, and one look at Ascera and Ran confirmed that she was not alone in her suspicions. The brown-haired Jedi resolved to watch their new traveling companion with great care.

* * *

"Our first order of business is to get to the fortress itself," Norsh said as the party of Jedi walked up the stairs back into the Temple proper. "I hope you brought a speeder or equivalent—the trek is quite long."

"Um, yeah, about that," De-Lanna muttered, "we walked."

The bearded man simply chuckled. "Well, that could be problematic, then."

Suddenly, all four Jedi stopped in their tracks, sensing the same thing: a pall over the Force, dark and gritty. "Dark Jedi," De-Lanna said grimly. "They're above us, in the holocron library."

"I recognize this feeling," Norsh said evenly, his brows furrowing in memory. "These are the Quelsar that Darth Malice trained to fight the Mathassar. Be wary, young Jedi. If there are still Quelsar trained in the ways of the Sith, they will be very formidable warriors."

"Then we'll have to be just as formidable," Ascera concluded coolly, resting a hand on her lightsaber. "Normally, I'd try to convert them to the light side, but I suspect that two millennia of Sith teachings will prove to be an insurmountable culture barrier."

Norsh nodded. "They were inconvertible when I fight fought them. I daresay they will still be as stubborn." The bearded Jedi strode forth, taking the lead, a lightsaber in his hand—taken from the corpse of Quid Carm. De-Lanna watched him closely, noted the easy, eager gait and natural leadership aptitude. She knew nothing about the Dalaan Norsh of history, but his sheer presence indicated that he was a powerfully charismatic man. No wonder, she thought, that he led so many Mathassar into the Jedi way.

But there was something odd about him, too. The darkness she and her friends had felt radiating from him down in the catacombs lingered around him. It was not suffused into him, or was even a part of him—rather, it felt like a cloak wrapped around his mind, always there but not directly influencing his actions. Instead, the darkness was…hiding something within Dalaan Norsh. It was an unsettling sensation, one that made De-Lanna want to draw her lightsaber and keep it between her and this mysterious man.

They walked up the stairs cautiously, and the closer they came to the holocron library, the stronger the Quelsar's dark energies became. Norsh opened the door and burst in, De-Lanna and Ran close behind. Three lightsabers—red, white, and blue—boiled forth. Five Quelsar, who were ransacking the holocrons in the chamber, looked up in surprise. They drew their own lightsabers, and the room was vibrating with the humming of weaponry.

De-Lanna studied the aliens curiously. They were taller than the Mathassar, and looked more like baseline humans, but with bony horns protruding from their shoulders and forehead. They were feral, demonic to behold, with yellow eyes gazing at them with the trained hatred of Sith warriors. The brown-haired Jedi stepped forward challengingly. The Quelsar complied.

The battle was fierce, but swift. Between De-Lanna and Ran, with Ascera controlling the fight from afar with telekinetically thrown holocrons and tables, the Quelsar were kept at bay. But it was Norsh who solidified their victory. He felled three of the Quelsar with two sweeping blows from an archaic fighting style that had not been seen since the Republic's birth. Though De-Lanna only saw a few of his moves in the quick fight, it was enough for her to realize that he was a master of swordplay.

"These Quelsar were stealing holocrons," Ascera reasoned, finding a number of the crystal objects on the corpses. "And they contained maps of the region, particularly space outside of the Mathassi system. And here's technical readouts of Coruscant's planetary defenses."

"But those would be useless," Ran noted, "Those holocrons are dated back two thousand years. A lot would have changed in that time."

De-Lanna shook her head. "Not necessarily. Coruscant's defenses haven't changed in over five millennia. If the Quelsar got a hold of this data, they would know a lot about how to penetrate planet-wide shielding."

Ran nodded, following her reasoning. Norsh also nodded, having come to the same conclusion. "It seems the Quelsar are preparing an assault, and need military information. So, they raid this motherlode of archived knowledge. But last I checked, the Quelsar and Mathassar had no form of hyperspace travel. They didn't even have subspace travel."

"They still don't," Ascera said. "We met with the Mathassar before coming here; they're still earthbound. I can only imagine that the Quelsar, sequestered in their territories as they are, are under similar straits."

"Something's up," Ran reasoned grimly. "Something very big. And we're missing some pieces to the puzzle."

Norsh stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Our only lead right now is Tauth and Malice—and I can assure you that we'll find Tauth at the fortress. The question, how did he leave this complex if you were right on his heels?"

Ascera stepped forward, placing a hand on a nearby holocron. "I can remedy that," she replied enigmatically. With a wave of her fingers, the crystalline cube flashed and the ghostly image of a Mathassar Jedi Knight floated above the glowing facets. "Does this holocron contain a blueprint of the Temple grounds?" she asked the image.

The Mathassar holo replied in broken its native language, with an eerily offset dub translating for it. "Yes. Of which level do you wish to see?"

"The catacombs. We are looking for any exits from the catacombs that do not lead to the Temple proper."

De-Lanna nodded in understanding. "You think that there must be some secret tunnel built by the Mathassar, one that Tauth might have used." Ascera nodded, but the holo brought low that theory.

"There are no such exits."

The Twi'lek looked mildly miffed, but the brown-haired Jedi was already thinking of other possibilities. De-Lanna posited a second question, "Does this holocron contain points of weakness in the Temple structure, or density and rock formation data?"

"Yes."

"Show them." The Mathassar vanished and in its place rose a running line of numbers. "Ascera, let me see your datapad."

"I like your idea," the Twi'lek congratulated, handing over the device.

Ran scratched his head. "What're you doing?"

"I'm scanning the area with the datapad," De-Lanna explained without looking up from her work, "and cross-referencing it with the historical information from the holocron. If there is a secret tunnel in the catacombs, and if it was hidden from the Mathassar holocrons when they were archived, then any disparity will reveal the location of our hidden tunnel."

"But the question remains—why would the Mathassar, who built the Temple, not record the existence of a secret tunnel?" Norsh noted.

"A good question," Ascera murmured. "I'd guess that it was added after the fact, by an outside party."

De-Lanna let out a yip of victory and declared, "I found it! There's definitely a tunnel down in the catacombs, and it looks like it's a stone door, so no wonder we missed it when we were down there—it would look just like the rest of the wall. But with this, we should be able to find it easily and cut it open with our lightsabers. Come on, we're one step away from catching Tauth."

The brown-haired Jedi eagerly led the way. She suspected that the tunnel would lead outside of the Temple, perhaps into the nearby mountains. To her great surprise, the tunnel went deeper. It deposited the party next to a rusting rail track, with two train launchers by its side. One of those launchers held a speeder, and its controls were destroyed by some form of energy weapon. The other was empty. De-Lanna noted the flakes of rust near its clamps. It had been recently used.

"Tauth used his lightsaber to disable one speeder and took one the other," she reasoned. "Looks like this rail track leads right into the mountains, to the east."

"Malice's fortress was in the east," Norsh said quietly. "I do not like this. A Jedi Temple that has a secret tunnel leading in the general direction of a Sith Lord's enclave. The coincidences are staggering, and the implications more so."

De-Lanna agreed with the sentiment, but for different reasons. Norsh was the element she found to be the most staggering, the greatest coincidence of all. She felt like she was on the verge of an epiphany, as if the mysteries wrapped around the Jedi Temple were only a thread away from being unraveled and revealed. She knew she had all the pieces—all she had to do was put them together.

Ascera seemed to be on that same precipice, for she said, "These implications are ones I would like to investigate further. There are things the Jedi holocrons in the library can reveal, if the right questions are asked."

"I'd like to join you," De-Lanna offered quickly. "Ran, Jedi Norsh, could you work on that other speeder? If we're going to catch up to Tauth, we'd better have that speeder repaired." With that, she and the Twi'lek went back up the tunnel and further up into the library.

"It seems we're thinking the same thing," Ascera noted without preamble as soon as they stood amidst the crystals once again. "Dalaan Norsh is the key to this mystery. We need to know what about him makes him the catalyst."

"The dark side lingers about him," De-Lanna said with a twinge of fear. "It's not a part of him, but its always present around him. I'm surprised Ran hasn't felt it."

"It's only because his skills in that field aren't as finely-tuned as ours," Ascera explained. "Which only means that this dark side energy around Norsh is much, much more subtle than we realized. Ah, here's Norsh's biographical data." The image of a Mathassar Jedi Knight appeared over a holocron, speaking in an alien tongue of their hero, Dalaan Norsh. Ascera commanded the image to translate.

"Dalaan Norsh told much about the Order on Coruscant, and of its ways and teachings. We tried to emulate Jedi Norsh's words in our deeds. It was under his banner that we fought and defeated Darth Malice. Later, after entombing Malice's body beneath our Temple, Jedi Norsh returned to Coruscant, claiming that he had to be put on trial by the Jedi Council."

"On trial?" De-Lanna repeated wonderingly. "For what?"

The holocron answered, "For two reasons. One, for using the Jedi arts as a faculty of war. He trained one hundred and twenty-seven Mathassar in the Jedi arts and deployed them against Darth Malice's Sith forces. Two, for disobeying the will of the Jedi Council and pursuing Darth Malice in the first place. Malice would have been dealt with by a joint effort of Jedi Masters and Republic Special Forces. For these reasons, he was asked to step down from the Jedi Council."

Ascera blinked. "He was on the Council? You mean he was a Jedi _Master_?"

"Yes."

Something within De-Lanna's mind clicked and the discrepancy—the key to the mystery—appeared in her mental eye. "Norsh told us that he was only recently made a Jedi Knight—becoming a Master wasn't even a glimmer in his dreams. Furthermore, he claimed that the Jedi Council _sent_ him to Mathassi for the express purpose of apprehending Malice. Also, the holocron made by Norsh's apprentice, Oda Zain, confirms both his rank and his mission. Finally, the records at the Yavin academy said that Norsh _never returned from Mathassar_." The brown-haired Jedi gave the holocron image a dark and penetrating look. "It seems someone's been caught in a lie."

Suddenly, the holocron's facets started changing colors, shifting from navy blue to sickly gray, to pitch black. The image of the Mathassar Jedi flickered and blurred, and De-Lanna could see the hint of a ghostly, black-robed shade beneath the snowy static.

"Darth Malice, I presume," she said grimly.

The holo reconfigured itself, revealing the Sith Lord's masked visage. Like all holos, its coloring was a dull blue. Except its eyes. Those pinholes of light were a sickly yellow. "It seems that my recording has been uncovered," the image said, drawing upon the programmed personality of Darth Malice to dictate the conversation. "Congratulations, Jedi. You must be wondering why I bothered to corrupt a Jedi holocron and implant false data within it."

"The thought had crossed our minds," Ascera answered.

"Can you not guess? The information I fabricated was for the benefit of those sniveling Mathassar who dared to believe they were Jedi. I let them have their histories and their legacies, embodied in my well-woven tale of 'Jedi Master' Norsh's fate, thus making him their great martyr, his credibility destroyed by the wonton Council for saving their lives."

"Then this was merely the first step in creating the heroic image of Dalaan Norsh that the Mathassar so revere," De-Lanna reasoned. "Their entire belief in the Jedi Order has been a Sith lie. Norsh didn't survive a confrontation with you, did he? He perished at your hands in your fortress, and you, under some manner of disguise, reported to the Mathassar that Norsh had killed you. You were the one who had the Temple built, but under the guise of Dalaan Norsh."

"Close, Jedi," the Sith Lord replied, "very close indeed. But not quite, for that logic does not explain why Norsh's body was inside the Temple—which had been expressly created to cage me."

Ascera made a cutting gesture with her hand. "No more mind games, Sith! You're just a programming. That much is clear. Just as it is also clear that there is still more to this riddle than can be gleaned from you. I have but one question."

"Ask it."

"Where is the real Darth Malice right now?"

The hologram wore a mask that covered the entire face, but De-Lanna could feel its horrid smile. "Closer than you think. Follow, young Jedi, and all will be revealed."

The image faded away, and the blackened holocron crumbled to dust.


	7. Poisoned Stars, Ch 3

**Chapter Three: Bleak Answers**

De-Lanna let the remains of the holocron slide through her fingers. "I have a bad feeling about this," she muttered in low tones. "What is the Core Worlds is going on here?" She felt like she was lost in a great abyss of confusion, fighting against the wild currents, struggling to stay afloat and in control. But no matter her will, no matter her strength, she simply could not force the bits and pieces of information into a cohesive, logical whole.

"The answers," Ascera said confidently, "will lie with Dalaan Norsh. Of this, I am sure. Come, we have to get to the fortress. We are approaching a nexus, a climax point—the Force is strong here and swirling in ways that we can only begin to imagine. We must not resist its pull, De-Lanna, not now. The answers will come if we just trust in the Force."

"I can't say I entirely agree with that kind of thinking," the brown-haired Jedi responded dryly, "but I see no other choice. I'm grasping at straws here, but if the Force is going to give me the answers on its own sweet time, I'd rather rush right into it."

"In that regard, you're much like Ran."

"Please don't say that," De-Lanna murmured. The last thing she wanted on her mind was how similar she and that infuriatingly childish Jedi were, maddeningly gorgeous eyes or no.

But luckily, Ascera did not notice her discomfiture. The Twi'lek idly said, "Ran's not a very clever person, and he knows it, but he's surprisingly insightful. For one thing, he was right—the critical piece to this puzzle that we've been missing was in the most obvious of places. Norsh himself."

The two Jedi reunited with Ran and Norsh in the tunnel. The two men had managed to repair the speeder. Soon enough, the four were traveling at top speed down the rail track. De-Lanna and Ascera kept their experiences in the holocron library to themselves—at this point, they felt it was best to keep a trump in hand. They just had to place their trust in the Force.

The speeder eventually came to a halt at the base of a stairwell. Norsh was tense and his palms rested against his lightsaber. "This is Malice's fortress," he confirmed quietly. "The evil is still here. I sense at least twenty Quelsar dark Jedi up there."

"They are all over the place," De-Lanna observed, feeling their collective presence. "There's no way around it; this is going to be a running battle no matter what. The odds are stacked heavily against us."

Ran smiled brashly and boasted, "We can take them, odds or no odds."

"You're talking like a Corellian," Ascera noted dryly. "Have you been hanging around Master Horn again?"

"Nothing of the sort," he replied. "I'm just saying that I'm sure we'll be all right. I mean, take a look at things from this perspective: we've been friends for years, Ascera, and I've gotten us into no end of trouble—"

"You're right about that—it was all _your_ fault," the Twi'lek quipped.

"—but we've always come out of it unscathed!" Ran finished without missing a beat. "So, logically, we should come out without a single blaster burn this time around."

Norsh laughed. "There's something skewed about that logic, young Jedi, but its refreshing to see some confidence."

De-Lanna's brows furrowed as she focused on a sensation that bothered her. "Tauth is there," she announced. "On the top floor of this place."

"So there is nothing for it," the bearded Jedi said. "We'll have to fight our way through all of the dark Jedi. We'd better go in fast and hard. At least we can try to keep surprise on our side."

Finding no alternative, De-Lanna nodded her agreement, which was followed by the others. A breath later, the four Jedi charged up the stairs and burst into the fortress, accompanied by the distinct snap-hiss of their lightsabers.

Blue, white, and red blades flashed against each other, crashing and hissing in a darkly beautiful dance of carnage and death. One by one the dark Jedi fell before them as they made their way through the fortress. They secured one stairway leading higher into the keep—they had to cut their way through the enemy throng. They turned a corner and clashed with another group—they emerged victorious. Again they climbed a stairwell, ascending ever higher, only to be accosted by yet another complement of dark Jedi. These fell before their furious onslaught. Speed was their ally, for against such numbers, it was the only tactic that would carry them safely to their goal.

They reached the top level and made their way to a pair of great iron doors, with the ferocious Quelsar right behind them. Cornered, they faced their final foes and held their ground. But in the end, their enemies lay slain to a man. The four of them sat on the ground, resting against the walls, exhausted.

"What did I tell you?" Ran gasped between gulps of air. "Got through without a scratch. Stuff of legends and all that. Sort of like that one hero, Kuman Quist, the one who fought the Dark Army of Lord Sarbaros with his magic club."

"You're mythologies never mentioned how tiring fighting an army was," De-Lanna shot back sarcastically. She wiped her brow on her sleeve. "Ascera, why do you let him speak? He's not helping us any."

The Twi'lek chuckled. "Trust me, I've tried to sedate him and it just made him more hyper. I swear, he's not human. He's got to be some alien life form we've yet to identify."

"All right, two against one is entirely unfair," Ran protested, which only excited guffaws from his female compatriots. De-Lanna felt relieved; he seemed to be back to his normal self again.

"I do believe that we have more pressing matters to be concerned about," Norsh reminded them, bringing their focus back on the mission at hand. They stood, having regained some of their strength from their brief rest. Norsh raised his hands. "These doors don't have any handles; obviously, they can only be opened telekinetically." The heavy portal opened with a bone-shivering creak, just enough for the party to enter single-file.

Within, they beheld a vast chamber filled with maps, blueprints, and box-shaped mechanical components. In the center of the room was a crumpled pile of black cloth—a robe. Next to it was a mask. De-Lanna recognized it as Darth Malice's, worn on the face of his holo.

But what arrested their attention was the man standing by the robes. Marcus Tauth glowered at them, and his hatred was heavy in the air. Lightning crackled in his eyes, giving his withered flesh a sickly coloring. "You've destroyed everything that Darth Malice created!" he roared. "I came here to learn, to master the secrets of the Sith, to revive the Dark Lord—and you crushed it all!"

Ran strode boldly toward the dark side master, igniting both ends of his lightsaber. "Give up now, Tauth, and submit yourself to justice." His voice was flat and hard, De-Lanna observed with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She could see the gray return to his eyes, the lifelessness—the readiness to take a life without a single hint of remorse. At that moment, De-Lanna realized that it was not passion, hate, or even anger that threatened Ran, but an obsession with conquering evil—an evil embodied in Tauth.

She grabbed a hold of her friend's arm, but he shrugged her off. "Ran," she whispered without pause, "calm yourself. A Jedi is always in control—even fighting evil can be overdone. You must temper yourself."

"What are you talking about?" he whispered back. He shook his head and said in a dismissive tone, "Whatever. Keep your focus on the here and now, De-Lanna. Tauth isn't to be underestimated." To Tauth, the he said, "One more warning! Surrender yourself or be destroyed."

But the dark side master was not looking at him. He was looking at Norsh. A wide, evil smile spread across the leathery face, revealing crooked and yellowed teeth. "There is yet hope for me. I had wondered in the beginning why you, a Jedi, had been placed within the Temple's cages. But now it is all clear. The technique of 'alter mind' was one of Malice's most developed skills. And the pinnacle of that skill was possession!" Grandiosely, he threw up his hands, fingers spread wide. In a great, booming voice, he intoned, "Arise, my master! Awaken from your slumber! Free yourself from the flesh of your enemy and walk this world again!"

De-Lanna felt a great blast of searing lightning strike her—lightning that originated from Norsh. She was thrown headlong into the far wall. The pain that exploded in her head was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Such raw power! Such pure energy! A bleary-eyed glance revealed that Ran and Ascera had been similarly smote. De-Lanna could smell burned flesh, hers and her friends'.

But her attention was rapt on the spectacle in the center of the room. Dalaan Norsh, glowing with lightning, the dark side pall at last fused into his being, stood with his eyes glowing. Glowing a sickly, familiar yellow. "And so I am alive once again," said Darth Malice.

"What…the…hell," groaned Ran, who was pushing himself to his feet, smoke still billowing from his burned robes. "What the hell is going on?"

Malice turned and stared down his nose at him contemptuously. "Is it not obvious? I planted the seed of my essence in the body of my greatest enemy, Dalaan Norsh. He did indeed slay me, but not before I cursed him and froze him in the freeze-coolant chamber. For two thousand years, my soul waited in the depths of his mind, waiting to be released. I only had to return to this fortress, my place of power, to regain the strength I needed to revive myself. And now, that task is done. And I could not have done it without you." The Sith Lord bowed low, claiming the fallen black robes and mask as he did so.

Realization dawned on De-Lanna as she stood, lightsaber blazing in her hands. The pieces fell into place. "So we were right. This whole thing was a sham. You probably sent some Quelsar lackey masquerading as Dalaan Norsh to the Mathassar after your 'defeat' to build the Temple. After all, what better way to protect your precious future body than by the Jedi Knights themselves? It also explains why there were Quelsar raiding the library—doubtless they were trying to revive you. They were probably alerted to your imminent return when your powers started manifesting again, like that mass telekinesis we felt on the mountainside."

"And those fabricated holocrons," Ascera added, "were just icing on the cake. With false information to circulate among the planet-bound Mathassar Jedi, you would ensure that they remained here in the Temple to defend it—at least until they all died off."

"Congratulations." The Sith Lord applauded them. "Your deductive skills are formidable. But as you can see, they do you no good here." He turned to Tauth. "You, old man, have shown great ambition to have come all the way here to learn the ways of the Sith. Your initiative will be well rewarded. As of this moment, you are my apprentice. All you must do is slay these three."

Tauth, his toothy grin growing wider with each word, exclaimed enthusiastically, "My dark master, I would slay them to please my own hatred of them! They have been quite bothersome to me." His lightsaber flashed in his hands. "I will relish this assignment. This day, I, Marcus Tauth, am a Dark Lord of the Sith!"

Suddenly, Ran sprang into the air, his double-bladed lightsaber igniting. He landed before Tauth and Malice, standing stalwartly against them. "Over my dead body," he growled fiercely. "I don't know what's going on here, but I know this much: You two aren't leaving this room alive."

At those words, delivered so chillingly and calmly, De-Lanna felt her heart grow cold. She saw Ascera's pale face and knew that she, too, felt what was in her heart: Ran's obsession with defeating Tauth and ending his evil brought him to the edge between light and dark. "He's not going to fall," she vowed to herself, forcing her aching body to action. She, too, leaped into the air, coming fast and hard on Tauth. The old man brought up his weapon to block her furious attack.

"Ran, Ascera, you've got to take down Malice!" she cried, hoping that he would do as she said. As long as Ran kept his focus on something other than Tauth, she reasoned, then he would be safe. She prayed that her logic held true.

Ran stood undecided for an instant, but then made his decision. He brought his lightsaber to bear on the Sith Lord. Ascera was soon at his side, moving to flank the black-robed warrior. But De-Lanna could not spare more than a moment on their battle; Tauth was a skilled fighter for so old a creature, and he pushed her swordsmanship to the limit. All her energy went into meeting his flurrying strikes.

"You tire," the old man crooned, "you're arms grow weary and your heart falters. Lay down your weapon and perish quickly, my dear!" He took a swipe at her head, which she ducked. De-Lanna countered with a stab of her own. He parried it away. "You'll have to do better!"

De-Lanna faced him squarely in the eye. "I've only just started." She pressed her attack, forcing their weapons into a lock. With the speed of thought, she hurled a nearby metal box at Tauth, clipping him hard across the back. He staggered and fell away, leaving an opening that the brown-haired Jedi leaped upon. She chopped at him with abandon, raining fierce blow after fierce blow.

But Tauth regained his control, turning her strongest slashes aside. He pointed his open palm at her, and she was suddenly sent flying backward into the wall, punched by his Force blast. De-Lanna moaned as pain shot up her back. Before she knew it, he was all over her, a blur of motion. It was all she could do to block his strikes. "I'm so close!" he hissed at her, drooling in his madness for power. "Soon, the secrets will be mine! I will be the greatest Sith Lord to have ever lived!"

De-Lanna spat back, "Get close to this!" Reaching through the Force, she pulled several metal boxes, tools, cables—anything that she could grab—and sent them at Tauth's exposed back. Sensing the danger, he spun around with his lightsaber arcing to cut down the impromptu missiles. But that action left him vulnerable. De-Lanna burst into motion, her white blade slashing up and down as she twirled its hilt in one hand. Tauth's lightsaber exploded in a shower of sparks, cleanly severed only centimeters from his thumb.

The old man backpedaled, keeping his distance from her. "Darth Malice!" he exclaimed, "we must retreat! They are too strong!"

De-Lanna saw that Malice, too, had met his match as far as swordplay was concerned. His weapon lay in pieces on the floor, but he held Ran and Ascera at bay with his Force lightning. The two Jedi blocked the foul energies with the glowing blades of their lightsabers. "So it seems," Malice intoned calmly. "We will leave in time, my apprentice, but I am not yet finished." Blue lightning collected between his outstretched hands. "Behold the true power of a Sith Lord!"

And suddenly, De-Lanna's world was pain.

Dark side energy, pure in its evil taint, pulverized her, scorched her flesh, burned her retinas. She could see nothing but a white haze, feel nothing but the endless torment. There was a bang nearby—a lightsaber had exploded. She could barely hear the screams of her friends above her own agonized cries.

The she heard something that sealed their fate—the sound of metal creaking. The great iron doors were sealing. Malice was trapping them in this world of pain. She would have cried if her tears did not evaporate in her eyes.

But she heard something else, something that filled her with both hope…and dread. "I won't let it end like this." It was Ran, but it did not sound like the flirtatious, hormone-raging boy who had made so many passes at her. It was not the eager, yet innocent, adventurer. It was not even the gray-eyed Jedi who walked the line between light and dark. This was a Ran who felt no hope, no life. A Ran who let his frustration and desperation seep into his voice. A Ran who was using those negative feelings to sustain himself.

De-Lanna had felt two essences of darkness: Malice and Tauth. Now she felt a third.

The door started to open again, and she felt herself moving toward them. In moments, she was lying beyond the threshold beside Ascera, who had also been telekinetically moved from the chamber of lightning. Ran stood by the doors, sealing them with his command of the Force. When the portal shut with a clang, he collapsed at its base, panting. Blood seeped from open sores on his hands and chest, staining his tunic. "I…I told you…we'd be…all right," he murmured weakly.

* * *

"Ascera and I have fought dark Jedi before," Ran told De-Lanna as she tightened a bandage around his arm, "but Sith Lords…whew, they're something else."

"You can admire our enemies later," she told him sharply. "Right now, we have slightly more important things to take care of. For one, we're way out of our league. Our best bet is to report to Master Skywalker about these developments."

Nearby, Ascera shook her head. De-Lanna was surprised; she thought the Twi'lek would see things her way. "There's an element we're neglecting," the Twi'lek said, "and that's the Sith superweapon that Dalaan Norsh discovered." She jerked a thumb at the sealed doors. "We know its real—those components. What we don't know is where it is."

"First Sith Lords, now superweapons," sighed the brown-haired Jedi. "We're really stretching it thin, Ascera. Look at us—wounded, on our last legs. That last lightning storm blew up Ran's lightsaber."

"I can just borrow one of the Quelsars' until I can make a new one," Ran countered. "As for our injuries, there's nothing a little bacta patch or two can't fix." He matched words with action and took a synthflesh patch from his utility belt and slapped it on his bleeding forearm. "Our concern should be locating this superweapon. And the only one who knows where that is Malice."

"Are you sure that this thing is real, Ascera?" De-Lanna questioned. "I mean, a superweapon's a pretty big thing. Surely we would have seen it by now with our own eyes or with our ship's sensors. Components aside, maybe he simply didn't get a chance to finish it."

"In which case, he may be going to complete it," the Twi'lek countered. "Regardless, it's obvious that our next course of action has to be stopping Malice. We can't let him run free. I don't like charging into this any more than you do, De-Lanna, but let's face it—if we were to request any additional help, it would take too long to be of any good."

De-Lanna's shoulders sank in resignation. "You're right of course. I just don't want to have to face them again. Tauth is just another dark sider, even if he's skilled. But Malice…he's just a monster." The thought of his lightning tearing through her flesh sent goosebumps along her arm.

"Rest assured, you're not the only one who thinks that," Ascera said quietly, hugging herself.

Ran stood, reaching out with the Force to draw a Quelsar's fallen lightsaber to his hand. "I want to check out that room again," he said suddenly. De-Lanna looked at him in shock. Going back into that hell was the last thing she wanted to do. Ran pressed, "Back there, I sensed Malice's presence in the Force, and my ability in that field is pretty limited. Right now, I don't feel anything, so I guess he's already gone—probably by another secret tunnel."

De-Lanna conceded mentally to his logic. She, too, felt nothing beyond those heavy doors. "But why would you want to go back in there at all?" she asked. "There's nothing there except those parts."

"I want to look at them," the green-eyed Jedi answered. "I'm not a very good mechanic, but I know a bit. And if there are any computer systems there, maybe I can slice my way in. In any case, I just want to dig around a bit, see if there's anything there that can give us a lead." He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a stretch, but its not like we've got anything to lose except a few minutes."

Neither De-Lanna or Ascera disputed that logic, and the three entered the chamber once again. The walls and floor were scorched black by Malice's lightning, a testimony to his awesome power. De-Lanna shivered again, but Ran just dove into the litter of boxes and parts. Ascera assisted him, crouching at his side and sifting through cables and circuit boards.

De-Lanna felt a bit out of place, having neither the mechanical experience nor the computer expertise that her comrades demonstrated. She idly examined this or that piece of equipment, tossed it aside, and picked up another without really knowing what she was holding. Then she pushed aside a W-shaped condenser unit, revealing a datapad underneath. Curious, she turned the device on and scrolled through its menus. Her eyes widened.

"Ran, Ascera," she breathed excitedly, "I found the schematics of the superweapon—and where its being built."

Over the next hour, the Jedi trio poured over the datapad, transferring its information to Ascera's own datapad. Between the two devices, they discerned the superweapon's dark purpose. Under the codename _Poison Star_, the superweapon was designed to be a planet-killer. But no obtuse blast of energy was its sword—something far more sinister was its killing touch.

The _Poison Star_ would launch a great missile of Sith alchemical toxins that would detonate in the atmosphere of a world. Planetary atmosphere and wind currents would carry the toxins across the globe, causing molecular degeneration in every living entity. Flesh would peel, scales would rot, lungs would melt. It would take hours, perhaps days, for the infected to die. The toxins were even more poetic in their dark methodology: those in top physical health would take even longer to die, thus extending their suffering to as long as a week or even a month. All would die in unspeakable agony as they were destroyed from the inside out.

"Horrible," De-Lanna whispered unbelievingly as she read the vile account. "How could anyone create such a thing?"

"Ask Emperor Palpatine," Ascera said dryly. "But look at this. The _Poison Star_ requires a vast amount of dark side energy to operate. Without it, it can only reach sublight speeds. It would be hyperdrive incapable."

The brown-haired Jedi blinked in sudden understanding. "Darth Malice came to Mathassi to secure some kind of energy nexus. This must be what he needed it for!"

"So he must be going for that nexus," Ran reasoned. "If we get there first, or at least catch up to him, we can shut down his superweapon without even going to it. But where on earth is the nexus?"

Ascera smiled thinly. "Who else would know the terrain of a world than its native people?"

They took the underground speeder back to the Jedi Temple in silence, brooding over their discovery…and their fears. When they returned to their ship, De-Lanna kept a close eye on Ran as he brought the transport through its warm-up cycles. The dark side was in him, she knew, a small kernel of blackness—a testimony to his desperation in Malice's fortress. He had used his frustration and rage to save them from certain doom, but at what terrible cost?

Outwardly, he had regained his usual cheery demeanor, which struck her as odd. She had always suspected that once the dark side had a hold, it would forever dominate the fallen's destiny. But Ran acted as he normally did: friendly, slightly irritating, yet a warm and comforting presence to be around. He made jokes, some of them lewd and immature, obviously trying to keep everyone's thoughts from their defeat at the hands of Darth Malice and the danger looming before them.

But the blackness was in him, and she could feel it like a tiny bit of rust on an otherwise unblemished ship.

In no time at all, the transport lumbered into the Mathassar village, it's landing cycles kicking up snow and gravel. It came to a stop and the landing ramp went down. De-Lanna saw Zeth'Irak, the Speaker of the village, waiting for them at the bottom.

"And so the Jedi return once more," the diminutive Mathassar said, "and with great adventure at their backs, else these tattered garments you wear tell a lie."

"We met your demon," De-Lanna explained, pushing up the charred flaps of his shredded tunic to a more serviceable angle. "And we learned that he plans to activate a weapon of immeasurable power. This world may be one of its first targets."

Zeth'Irak nodded, taking the news with calm and thoughtfulness. "The Great Change has begun," he murmured with finality. "Though it bodes ill for us all."

"Your Angel from Heaven came here two thousand years ago to tap into some kind of energy nexus," Ascera said. She stood tall and confident and the wounds upon her face and clothes seemed like a noble's garment, so strong was her presence. "If you have any idea of what this nexus might be, please tell us. Our only chance of stopping him is to keep him from getting that energy."

Again, the Mathassar nodded. "I know of what you speak. There is a holy place on this world, sacred to both Mathassar and Quelsar. It is called the Well of Creation, for it is our shared belief that we were born from it."

"Tell us about this Well."

"In ages past, long before the demon came to this world, there was only the Well, and its energies were in balance—both good and evil, weal and woe. From the clean waters came the Mathassar, from the putrid came the Quelsar, and so were we infused with wisdom and violence respectively. But as with the mixing of liquids, some of the putrid entered the clean, and some of the clean entered the putrid. And this is why all living beings are capable of both good and evil.

"When the Quelsar joined with the demon and learned his ways, the Well of Creation became purely clean, for they were no longer of the Well. They followed another mandate."

Ran's brows furrowed. "That of the Sith."

Zeth'Irak continued, "Since then, we have guarded the clean waters as part of our rituals. Once every full moon, we send our young to protect it and watch over it. None are to taste of its waters or to disturb its surface, for so long as the Well remains immaculate, mysterious magic can be drawn from it. Visions are seen by those who guard the waters."

"This sounds like a concentration of light side energy," Ascera reasoned. She turned to her fellow Jedi. "But what use could Malice have in a light side nexus?"

"One way to find out," said De-Lanna. She looked imploringly at the Mathassar. "Master Zeth'Irak, please let us watch over the Well. Darth Malice…the demon…will surely go there."

The Mathassar closed his eyes. "Tonight is the full moon. This meeting is no coincidence. I grant you your wish. Walk along the northern path, and it will take you to the sacred Well of Creation. Be vigilant, for if the waters are disturbed, then its magic spell doom for you."

The three Jedi bowed to the Speaker and took the path. It was a primitive dirt road, hidden by the trees for miles upon miles; finding a landing spot for their ship would have been impossible. It was small comfort to them that Darth Malice would have to travel on foot as well.

Ran pressed on like a man possessed, shoving his way through the underbrush and once even igniting his stolen lightsaber to slash down a large tree so that he could pass. De-Lanna shivered at the sight of the green-eyed Jedi wielding a Sith lightsaber with such confidence and ease. When Ran was a little farther ahead, she grabbed a hold of Ascera's sleeve. "We have to do something," she whispered. "He's falling farther and farther away."

The Twi'lek nodded, her face ashen and stiff. "I know. I can feel him. He's ignoring all the confusion and doubt in his heart and focusing entirely on the mission. He's trying to cope, but its not working. All its doing is making him feed on his anger."

"What does he have to be angry about?" De-Lanna wondered, truly concerned and confused.

"Nothing," Ascera answered. "It's all in his head. Tauth must have said something to him when they first fought, something that triggered those doubts about himself, about the Jedi, about everything. I feel…I feel that he's looking for the answers, but that the only solution lies in cutting down Tauth—destroying the element that made him so confused in the first place. Anger is just the fuel for his actions."

"Doesn't sound like a good reason to be falling to the dark side," De-Lanna said quietly.

"Ran is a very emotional person, very passionate," the Twi'lek explained. "Instinct and emotion are more important to him than reasons. They kept him in good stead for a long while, all his life, even. But now it is failing him."

"Is there nothing we can do?"

Ascera was quiet for a long, painful moment. "This is something he has to work out on his own."

The brown-haired Jedi also grew quiet. She felt helpless, a fly on the wall watching her friend fall apart. "Ascera, aren't you worried that your bond with him will cause you to fall, too?"

The Twi'lek's movements became stiffer. "I can feel the darkness eating at me, encouraging to grow like a cancer because I'm concerned about him. That concern is being turned into fear, into desperation, anger at being unable to do anything." Her tone, usually so cool and collected, grew hotter with each breath.

De-Lanna grasped her arm and said, "There is no passion, there is serenity." Ascera immediately calmed, the litany seemingly dissipating the building frustration within her. "Are you all right?"

The Twi'lek nodded shakily. "I'm sorry. It seems I need better control over myself."

"Your bond with Ran must be strong indeed."

"Is that a hint of jealousy I hear?" the Twi'lek said with a small grin.

De-Lanna turned a light shade of pink at the implication. "Not in the slightest. It was just a comment. Regardless, we should keep a close eye on our friend over there. He's already gotten too far ahead. Damn, but he just doesn't quit, does he?" She and Ascera had to jog to catch up to Ran. They passed by the stumps of severed trees and vines and other foliage and debris. He kept on pushing forward, cutting himself a path.

They walked for three days, resting only for brief periods of rest and food. Ran maintained a grueling pace, which De-Lanna and Ascera quietly accepted. Though he joked to keep their spirits up, De-Lanna could sense the falsity in his cheerful facade, for his attention was always focused on the road ahead—and the dark side masters who lay at its end.

The further he slipped to the dark side, the more De-Lanna's desperation increased. She found herself missing the old Ran, as infuriating as he was. Back then, the pranks were not some sad attempt at maintaining an amicable disposition, but a true, honest method of lightening a grim atmosphere. Even his juvenile passes at her were just another way for him to draw a few laughs from his friends. Looking at Ran now, his face set, obsession boiling off him in waves, the dark side growing within…De-Lanna made a second silent vow to protect him, to prevent him from falling completely.

She prayed that she could do it.


	8. Poisoned Stars, Ch 4

**Chapter Four: The Pool of Twilight**

The Well of Creation was an enchanting grove of wild plant life surrounding a singular pool of crystalline water. Hewn stone encased the pool, hinting that a touch of civilization had once graced its otherwise natural beauty. There were no animals, no sounds other than the rustling of leaves in the wind. Serenity, pure and haunting, hung heavy in the air, a silent barrier against all who would dare intrude.

The three Jedi made camp by the pool and awaited the stroke of midnight, when, according to Mathassar tradition, a vision was to appear before those who took up the duty of guardianship. They spent the hours of daylight in their own ways.

Ran, ever restless and even more so now that he walked between light and darkness, tinkered with the lightsaber he had appropriated from the fallen Quelsar Sith. Its blade length was not to his specifications, and so he drew forth a small tool set from his utility belt and adjusted the beam apertures in the weapon. The process was time-consuming, for every lightsaber was built to its wielder; modifying it to a different swordsman was a difficult task.

Ascera sat in quiet contemplation at the pool's edge, careful not to let so much as the hem of her robes dance against the waters. She sat in silence, thoughtful and serene—a great and impenetrable mask to hide her own fears and doubts about Ran. They shared a bond, and that bond was being sorely tested by this mission. She sought guidance in the Force and hoped that a place so strongly concentrated in the light side would aid in her meditations. The future lay clouded before her seeking mind.

De-Lanna went through breathing exercises and meditative drills to soothe her wracked nerves. The intensity of the past few days—Ran's struggle with the dark side, her own confrontation with Tauth, the formidable powers of Darth Malice—had taken their toll. Sitting before the calming influence of the Well of Creation rejuvenated her spirit, and she was content to simply bask in its healing glow.

The daylight shed into twilight and further melted into darkness. De-Lanna's chronometer read midnight. She could feel the expectation in the air, radiating from her and her comrades.

They did not wait long.

Two identical sounds shattered the golden silence of the pool: snap-hiss. The three Jedi sprang to their feet, igniting their lightsabers. Red, white, and blue lances boiled forth, bathing the darkened grove in a glowing, ghostly milieu. From the depths of the forest strode Darth Malice, eerily resplendent in a black tunic and robe, his face hidden behind hood and mask. In his hands was a double-bladed lightsaber, twin blades fully extended, blood-red in their light.

No words were said; the Jedi stood against the Sith Lord in readiness. Time stood still. Darth Malice doffed his robe with an imperious, almost impatient gesture and twirled his deadly weapon in challenge.

Ran let out a roar and charged, slashing for the Sith Lord's head. The crackle of energy cut the stillness of the air like a knife. Serenity was gone. In its place was chaos. Ascera and De-Lanna watched at the sidelines for an instant before joining their comrade in the fray. The clearing before the sacred pool was awash in dancing lights, turning it into a battlefield of blinding color and shrieking sound.

Malice caught both Ran and De-Lanna's attacks with a single block and pushed their blades away from him. A swift kick sent the green-eyed Jedi sprawling to the dirt and an open, black-gloved palm hurtled a blast of Force energy into De-Lanna's chest. The brown-haired Jedi flew backward, smashing into a tree. Alone, Ascera frantically rallied her defenses against Malice's renewed assault. But The Twi'lek was no warrior—her skills with a blade were no match for the Sith Lord's. In desperation, she wrapped a nearby boulder with her mind and hurled it in his direction; Malice contemptuously sliced the impromptu missile with one end of his weapon while crushing Ascera's defenses with the other.

De-Lanna, having recovered from Malice's attack, leaped back into the fray, driving her white blade between the Sith Lord and her friend. She danced with the ferocious warrior to the fast and brutal melody of humming lightsabers. Each time their blades crashed together, the war song reached a crescendo, only to fall away as they parted. But with each parting, De-Lanna felt drained, a part of her vitality sapped. Malice was too great a swordsman; she could not possibly hold him off.

Ran returned to the field, his stolen weapon a flurry of crimson. He attacked Malice from behind while the Sith Lord fought De-Lanna and Ascera from the front. But their enemy was a godlike swordsman, and he defended both his front and rear with a wall of parries. Always, his double-bladed lightsaber was angled just so—stopping the attack from either side. A back flip put him behind Ran, setting all three Jedi in front. Malice resumed the assault in force and battered his younger opponents to their last vestiges of strength.

De-Lanna fell back, panting. "He's…just…too…strong," she groaned, her side aching from exertion. Her legs felt like lead. She dived to the side as the Sith Lord came at her. "Ran, Ascera!" she cried, "Buy me some time!" There was only one way that she could think of that would turn this losing battle to their side. But she needed a reprieve.

Her fellow Jedi assented, taking the fight to Malice with renewed vigor; they suspected her plan. Once Malice was consumed in his fight with them, De-Lanna closed her eyes and fell within the familiar patterns of her Nexus technique. Threads swirled around her, wrapping and curling around the future, holding it place. But the future resisted. She furrowed her brow in confusion—this had never happened before! Somehow, Malice was resisting the pull of her technique. Sweat beaded on her brow as she redoubled her efforts, forcing the future to bend to her will. A spring was loaded inside her, compressed to its smallest, ready to release its energy and return to its original conformation—that was the future. But she had to keep it compressed, had to keep it fixed. She prayed that it did not backlash at her.

Malice's foot slipped on a patch of loose dirt. Ran was all over him in a heartbeat, driving his lightsaber deep into his foul, black heart. The corpse fell to the ground and vanished.

"What?" the green-eyed Jedi wondered.

"An illusion," Ascera reasoned, "the supposed 'vision,' I expect. This place is truly strong in the Force to create something like that."

"A taste of things to come," De-Lanna commented crisply, not relishing the thought of doing battle with the Malice again.

It started to rain.

"Oh great," the brown-haired Jedi muttered tartly. "Now we'll be soaked too. Wonderful."

But the rain proved to be a blessing. It pattered against the ground, turning it into mud. It spilled upon the trees, refreshing them. It fell heavily like a hammer—a hammer that clanged against something large, metallic, and enormous. The rain curled around something great and spherical, revealing its invisible curves to the bewildered Jedi.

"By the Force," Ascera whispered, looking into the sky. "No wonder we couldn't find it. It was cloaked."

"We have to stop it," De-Lanna murmured softly. "If something that powerful gets out of the system, no one will be able to find it. It would be a disaster."

Ran said nothing, only looked upon the demonic creation in horrified awe.

They beheld the _Poison Star_.

* * *

Sitting beneath the sheltering leaves of the trees, the three Jedi discussed their next course of action. They knew that the Well of Creation was the _Poison Star_'s energy source and furthermore, that Malice would come to claim the energy nexus. "We have to stay here," Ascera reasoned. "Yes, De-Lanna, I know that we're running the risk that the superweapon may be operational already, but we must trust in our information and in the Force."

De-Lanna sat back on her heels and consented to that logic. The Force had definitely given them what they needed, the location of the superweapon. Combined with their knowledge that the Well of Creation was its fuel source, the only sensible road lay in waiting. But an illusory Malice was terrifying enough. She had no desire at all to confront the real Malice again, not after he so easily crippled them before. Her skin trembled in remembered pain, but she dutifully steeled her will against her fear.

"Bring him on," Ran said grimly, his hand on his stolen lightsaber. "I'm not afraid of him or Tauth."

"Then you're being foolish," Ascera reprimanded heavily. "We can't go charging blindly in like you did against that illusion, Ran. We need a plan, an ambush. It's not pretty, nor is it very honorable, but let's face it—those two are out of our league. It would be sensible to grasp at any advantage."

"It seems to me that we have advantage enough," Ran countered. "We are in a place strong in the light side. Like the Jedi Temple, Malice will be weaker here."

"But remember," De-Lanna admonished, "Malice is an entirely different class than Tauth, Carm, or Leena. He's a full-fledged Sith Lord at the height of his power. No matter what, he'll still be stronger than any of us are. Not to mention that he has much more experience in combat than we have put together. He did, after all, wage a Sith war against the Mathassar Jedi."

"So what do you propose we do?" Ran asked, having capitulated to their thinking.

The brown-haired Jedi smiled. "We use the Force," she said coyly. "Against that illusion, I used my Nexus technique. It wasn't very effective at first. I'd imagine that against a true Sith Lord, I won't be able to pull it off at all—but if you two lend me your strength, along with the strength of the Well, I'll bet I can force Malice's defeat."

"It is risky," Ascera commented. "To do so would mean surrendering all our concentration to fueling your Nexus. That, of course, leaves us undefended and open to attack by Malice and any minions he might bring along."

"I already thought of that," De-Lanna replied. "But my Nexus can be adapted to a form of prescience. It will drain us all and probably leave us bedridden for a while, but we can use it to see into the future, force certain events to occur as we want it, and thereby impose defeat as a part of Malice's destiny."

"Sounds dangerous," the Twi'lek murmured. "You've never tried anything of this magnitude before. Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Not alone. But with your help, maybe. No, it _has_ to work. We obviously can't handle Malice alone, much less with Tauth at his side. This is our only chance at defeating them."

Ran nodded and placed his full cooperation behind her. "I say we try it. Let's face it, Ascera. None of us—all three of us—can beat Malice. This is our only way."

"But not the best way," Ascera observed. Her headtails quivered in resignation. "Very well, we will do it your way, De-Lanna. It is, after all, the only way."

With that, the three Jedi seated themselves in a circle, facing each other. They closed their eyes and fell into a single, shared meditative trance. Their minds, hearts, souls melded into one amalgam. They could sense each other's fears, hopes, dreams, desires—their very beings were open to each other. De-Lanna shivered, having never experienced such intimacy before. She was afraid of it, but steeled her will once more—this was the only way. She would not back down from a path that she had revealed.

The threads of fate were in their hands—no, one hand, shared by three souls—and that hand gently guided destiny into a tapestry. A woof of threads. Malice and his entourage of Quelsar dark Jedi emerged from an ancient speeder, walking the rest of the way to the Well of Creation. A weave of threads. Malice cursed as the foliage tripped his minions. He slashed his way violently through the woods with his newly-crafted double-bladed lightsaber. Another woof. He strode boldly past the trees, found the three Jedi sitting in their meditation. He ordered his warriors to destroy them. A weave. The three Jedi broke free of their trance, surprising the Quelsar. In a heartbeat, six dark Jedi lay dead by the poolside.

Future and present began to merge, and the events happened in synchronization. The imposed future became present reality.

Ran leveled his lightsaber at an astonished and fuming Darth Malice. "It's over," he said gravely.

Malice growled back, "Put away your toy, boy, before you cut yourself with it. I will corrupt this pool as I corrupted that holocron! Its energies will be mine, and my _Poison Star_ will soar through the spacelanes bringing terror and destruction to your stagnating Republic! The Sith will rule the galaxy once this pool is mine!" He ignited his double-bladed lightsaber and charged headlong at them. Ran and Ascera met him first, red and blue blades moving to flank the enraged Sith Lord.

De-Lanna hung back, eyes still closed, forcing her will upon the future. It grew harder now that she was alone, but they had progressed far enough along that she could manage the final moments leading to their victory.

Malice was ten times the ferocious and terrifying opponent the illusion had been. De-Lanna's friends were hard-pressed to simply maintain their defense. In a matter of breaths, seconds, instants, Ascera was thrown to the ground, her leg and arms burned by the touch of a lightsaber. Ran, facing the Sith Lord alone, fared even worse, with energy burns scorched across his flesh in a dozen places. De-Lanna threw her whole soul into her task. She had to end the fight quickly.

Again, the future resisted her will at the critical moment. With a scream and a burst of renewed energy, De-Lanna pushed fate in the direction she wanted. It fought back, but was no match for her.

Darth Malice, Dark Lord of the Sith, master of the _Poison Star_, felt the biting sting of Ran's foot in his chin. The physical blow was followed by the hiss of a lightsaber. Ran pulled his weapon free of his foe's belly and stood away. The corpse tumbled to the ground.

With a sigh of relief and contentment, an exhausted De-Lanna sank to her knees, her eyes lidded and dull. She felt Ran's thin, strong arms around her, easing her way to the soft soil. She fell asleep with a smile.

De-Lanna awoke around twilight the next day. Her head spun from the de-synchronization of her circadian rhythms. She sat up with a groan, only barely noticing the sleeping pallet she had been placed on. A small all-temperature foil tent had been erected around her, surrounding her in an invisible cloak of warmth against the chill Mathassi air. The tent flap flipped open and Ascera slipped in.

"You're awake," the Twi'lek observed happily, the first sign of genuine gaiety De-Lanna had seen on her blue-skinned face since the mission began. "Ran had me stay with you after you fell unconscious. He went and grabbed some supplies from our ship, using Malice's speeder to expedite travel."

"That explains all this," De-Lanna said. Suddenly, her belly rumbled. She blushed brightly. "Um…do you have anything to eat around here, by chance?"

As Ascera chuckled in reply, the tent flap opened once more. Ran entered. "What is that sound?" he wondered laughingly. "It sounded like a bantha's mating call." A thrown pillow was De-Lanna's only response. "I'm just kidding," Ran protested.

Though irritated at his antics, De-Lanna's soul smiled. He sounded like the old Ran again. Indeed, she did not sense the dark obsession that had clouded him. Destroying Darth Malice had healed his raging spirit, reaffirmed his belief in the Jedi way of life. She was glad for that.

"Here." The green-eyed Jedi threw a ration bar her way, which she consumed greedily and with gusto. "I'd make a joke about you eating like a mynock, but I don't want to get hurt again." De-Lanna flashed him a warning glare and he backed off. "Easy, there, easy," he said soothingly. De-Lanna harrumphed around her food and ignored him. But she had to bite back a smile while doing so.

De-Lanna swallowed the last of her ration bar and asked, "Where's Tauth? We killed some Quelsar and a Sith Lord, but that old man's still unaccounted for."

Ran turned grim, but De-Lanna still did not sense any burning anger, only determination. "We found a comlink on Malice's body," Ran said. "Ascera and I sliced into it and found its call history. Malice apparently left Tauth on the _Poison Star_ to, and I quote, 'fire upon the planet if our efforts to secure the energy nexus fail.'"

"But I thought the superweapon couldn't work without the energy nexus."

Ascera shook her head. "Remember, it requires dark side energy to enter hyperspace—without it, it can only reach sublight speeds. Its weapons systems are powered by more conventional means. In other words…."

"…It's fully operational," De-Lanna finished. "Damn. So, do we know how to get inside it?"

Ran said, "We were planning on assaulting the hangar bay with our transport and just go in lightsabers blazing."

"Isn't that just a tad suicidal?" the brown-haired Jedi observed sarcastically, perturbed by her friend's audacity.

"The _Poison Star_ is two hundred meters in the air right now," he explained. "We don't have any other way of getting in, at least not undetected. Again, it's the only course we really have. Like it or not, it's a straight-up running battle. Again."

"Remember how the last one worked out," De-Lanna reminded him.

"I know. We'll try and do better." He smiled winningly; De-Lanna just sighed. She suddenly pitied Ascera for having to put up with him all her life.

* * *

"Pull up, Ran!" Ascera shouted into Ran's ear. "Pull up!" In typically Ran fashion, the transport dove down. De-Lanna could hear the Twi'lek's enraged groan above the roar of ion engines. Their ship dipped and slipped across the surface of the cloaked superweapon, dodging the massive vessel's point-defense weaponry. Green bolts of energy slashed through the air, sometimes coming dangerously close to their ship. More than once on their wild ride, De-Lanna let out a scream of surprise when a laser bolt splashed against the ship's shields.

De-Lanna was unused to such turbulent flying. Though strapped tightly into the crash-webbing of her seat, she held onto her chair's armrests with a death-tight grip, fighting down the rising bile in her throat with sheer will and the Force. The ship dipped faster and then turned into a climb at gut-wrenching speeds. G-forces pushed against the brown-haired Jedi's chest, and she wondered if she were going to die.

Ran put the ship into a punishing spin, firing his own blaster cannons at the seemingly empty air ahead. There was an explosion as energy bolts tore apart the _Poison Star_'s hangar bay doors. Now amidst the emptiness of the upper atmosphere was the dull gray metal of a docking bay, complete with Quelsar dark Jedi and droid pilots scurrying toward their starfighters. Ran opened fire once again, razing the defenseless warriors with red-hot energy. He settled the transport inside the docking bay and lowered the landing ramp.

De-Lanna thanked the stars that her digestive system was still in one piece. "Let's move!" she said, regaining her composure now that the ship was no longer moving. She burst free of her crash-webbing and, with her friends close behind, dashed down into the hangar, her lightsaber in hand. They had to be fast. Their audacious assault had not gone unnoticed, and there was no telling when they would be accosted. For now, they had the element of speed to keep them on their goal.

Ahead, the bulk doors leading out of the hangar slid open, a patrol of battle droids led by two dark Jedi marching against them. De-Lanna reached out with the Force, grabbing pieces of laser-ravaged scrap metal from the piles of destroyed starfighters. With a thought, she hurled them at the approaching enemy, taking down several of the fragile droids and scattering the rest. Ascera pressed the attack, cutting down the remaining droids with graceful ease. The two dark Jedi, astonished at the speed of the counterattack, fell to Ran's lightsaber before they could draw their weapons. The way cleared, the three Jedi delved deeper into the superweapon.

"According to the schematics," Ascera said, "we should be able to deactivate the _Star_'s weapons systems if we go to the engineering level or to the weapons operations level. From what I could discern, engineering should be lightly guarded, but it would take us forever to find the right systems to shut down."

"Why not just blow the whole thing up?" Ran asked.

"The _Star_ apparently has a self-destruct device, keyed so that any—shall we say, vulgar—handling of any ship system will result in a core meltdown."

"Those Sith do think of everything," the green-eyed Jedi quipped dryly.

They made for the turbolifts, intending to go to the weapons operations level before confronting Tauth. But the lift was guarded by two sentry guns, which opened fire on the Jedi as soon as they walked within range. They held off the torrent of blaster fire with ease, but they could achieve no more than a standoff; the sentry guns had their own shield generators, making deflected blaster bolts next to useless. De-Lanna decided to make her move. "Cover me!" With Force-assisted speed, she bolted down the hallway and struck one of the guns with her lightsaber, tearing through its shields and right into its main power cables. She spun and stabbed the other gun turret with equal fervor.

"Damn," she muttered, examining the turbolift. "Looks like its been sealed off. They're trying to lock us down."

Ran stepped up and stabbed his lightsaber into the turbolift doors, hacking them down. The shaft was empty, for the lift itself was several levels up. He took hold of a service ladder on the side of the shaft. "We're just going to have to do this the hard way," he commented lightly, hooking his weapon onto his belt and grasping a rung.

"Let's just hope the lift isn't flush with the walls," Ascera muttered, following. De-Lanna buckled her lightsaber and planted her foot on the ladder.

It took them almost half an hour to reach the weapons operations level, and by the time they clambered onto solid ground, their arms and legs were aching. Worse yet, a patrol of battle droids awaited them, having been sent to intercept them. De-Lanna cursed, bringing her lightsaber up to deflect the barrage of blaster fire.

"Forget these guys," Ran grunted, batting a bolt back at an attacker. "Cut them down and get to the computers!" The three charged ahead, tumbling and spinning, their weapons a coruscating blaze. Droids fell in droves before their ferocious onslaught. Soon, the weapons level was depleted of enemies. "We have to hurry," Ran said, already typing away at a nearby terminal. "We don't know how much time we have before another patrol arrives."

De-Lanna looked over his shoulder at the monitor. "Can you slice this?"

"I can try."

Ascera slipped into the seat next to him, joining him in his efforts. "I'll try and locate Tauth and any troops he's sending our way. You handle deactivating the weapons systems." Suddenly, the Twi'lek let out a yelp. "We have more droids coming our way. De-Lanna, hold them off."

The brown-haired Jedi nodded and stood before the main entrance, her white-bladed lightsaber firmly in her grasp. The doors opened and immediately her vision was swathed in scorching energy beams. She parried the attacks with the grace of a trained Jedi, her blade spinning and dipping to catch the colored bolts. She sent most of them back at her assailants, dropping several foes in the process. She broke her guard for a moment, extending an open palm; a group of droids fell apart, blown to bits by the Force. Then there were no further enemies to destroy. She had held the line.

"How goes it?" she asked her friends.

Ran looked back at her with a roguish smile and gave her a thumbs-up. "Main cannons and point-defense turrets are offline. Let's go get Tauth."

"He's on the command deck," Ascera announced. "And I have full control over the turbolifts. We should be able to get there without any problems." Her brows narrowed in concern. "Tauth has at least four dark Jedi with him—probably the last of the Quelsar Sith left on the planet. It's going to be a tough fight."

"This whole mission hasn't exactly been a walk in the park," De-Lanna told her wryly. "I wasn't expecting any easy routes. As it is, storming this place has gone far better than I could have hoped, wild scheme that it is."

"Hey," Ran said merrily, "why complain if it's going well?"

On that note, the three Jedi summoned a lift and rode it all the way up to the command deck.


	9. Poisoned Stars, Ch 5

**Chapter Five: The Last Stand**

Ran felt strangely calm. He was about to confront Tauth on an even field, the man who had thrown his perceptions into such disarray…and he felt nothing but soothing serenity. He thought back to his first face-to-face meeting with the withered dark side master. He had used words like a knife, stabbing doubts into Ran's heart. "Anger, fear, passion—these things brought you success. If you embrace it, you will become greater than any Jedi!" Tauth had told him. "The Jedi weaken you. They are hypocrites. They promote peace and justice, but they do so by force and blade!"

Ran had thought long and hard about those words since that fateful encounter. Were the Jedi really hypocrites? Were they really weakening him? He was a passionate person, driven by his emotions. Emotion served him well throughout his life. They gave him purpose, gave him personality. They gave him humanity and depth. But the Jedi Code stated that there was no emotion, only peace. Tauth's words made him realize that he personally found peace through forbidden emotion. It was who he was. But he was also a Jedi, and had to adhere to the code. The dichotomy was befuddling.

He had examined Tauth's holocron, sought to mesh the discipline and justice of the Jedi with the passion and strength of the Sith. In his blindness, he had tried to walk the gray line between light and darkness, and almost fell doing so. No, he knew now, there can be no in-between, no personal balance in the struggle of good and evil in a man's soul. One had to fall, either slightly to the light, or slightly to the dark. In the grand macrocosm, balance was achieved—but in the microcosm of a person's life, only contrasts existed. That was his truth.

He had known that De-Lanna and Ascera had worried about him, had sensed—not through the Force, but through friendship—that they felt his troubles and his confusion…and his dance with the dark side. He had tried to hide the conflict within his heart, but he was simply to open and honest a person to truly hide his soul. Ran smiled to himself—that was who he was: peace through emotion. He embraced that motto and came out of the darkness. His smiles were genuine and easy once again, and he held himself with the same ease and candor that he always did.

When Darth Malice lay dead at his feet, Ran realized something. The light side led to complacency and zealousness—the undoing of the Old Republic Jedi. The dark side led to death and destruction—the downfall of the Sith. To follow either path blindly was folly, but to follow neither path, to walk the gray in between was useless as well. A man in twilight could not see where he was going without light, nor hide from his foes without darkness. Only by stepping into one or the other would he stand to gain.

This understanding opened Ran to a personal truth, a credo that resonated deep in his soul. The darkness was past him. He had found his truth. "I will use my emotions to make me stronger. But only to help others, never for my own selfishness." There was no balance on the microcosmic scale, Ran thought. He made his decision and took a small step back onto the light. Only contrasts.

The doors to the turbolift opened, and before him stood Marcus Tauth. The old man seemed frailer, his skin sallower and leathery, hanging from him like a cloth mask. He wore tattered black robes emblazoned with poorly-stitched Sith runes. The effect made him terrifying to behold, a ghost of a human being, shrouded in darkness so thickly that it manifested in his own physical form. The dark side had consumed his mind and now it was consuming his body.

Four Quelsar stood between the Jedi and Tauth, their lightsabers hot in their hands.

"Let me handle Tauth," Ran said quietly. He saw the looks his friends gave him, filled with worry. "Don't worry," he said with a smile. "I'm all right. I won't fall, I promise. This is not a battle between Tauth and me anymore; it's a battle of ideologies. Of good and evil, and there can be no middle ground." With that, he strode boldly toward his opponent. The dark Jedi parted before him, somehow knowing of his intentions. They instead turned their attention to Ran's friends. Ran paid them no mind; he knew that they would fall before his comrades' strength.

Ran stepped up to the command dais that Tauth stood upon. They stared hard at one another. "We meet again," the old man hissed in a voice no longer his own. It reverberated with the dark side. "You come here with weapons, no doubt to kill me."

"Good guess," the green-eyed Jedi replied sarcastically with a lopsided grin.

"This was foolish of you. You could have been so much more. No matter. You have no doubt slain my master, but even that is of no consequence. In the short time he was my teacher, I learned enough to complete my training! I am Darth Terros, the new Dark Lord of the Sith!"

Ran scoffed. "That is the stupidest name I have ever heard."

Tauth fumed with rage. "You will pay for your insolence, boy!" Lightning boiled from outstretched hands, arcing for Ran's heart. But the young Jedi tossed up a small crystal into the air, letting it catch the lightning. The object exploded.

"My holocron!" Tauth cried, recognizing the item an instant too late.

"It was useful," Ran smirked. Lightning crackled and he brought up his lightsaber in time to catch the blue-white bands in its red blade. "You can do this all day, Tauth," Ran said, "and I can do this all day, too."

"I will remember your bravery as I will remember your foolishness." The newly-crowned Sith Lord drew his lightsaber, its crimson lance hissing into existence. "Let us settle this as Jedi would. Meet your doom." Tauth advanced with astonishing speed for his withered body, forcing Ran onto the defensive. Their blades crashed with incredible force. The young Jedi's brow beaded with perspiration just from the initial exchanges; Tauth was not only fast, but strong as well—the work of the Force.

Ran ducked and parried, dodged and blocked, keeping his defenses high and solid. Tauth's swings were wide, sweeping, and immensely powerful. Even foiled attacks left Ran's arms numb. Sparks flew as the Sith Lord's blade tore through the command deck: rails, computer terminals, floor, ceiling—all were subject to his frenzied swordplay. The young Jedi had to surrender more and more ground to the ferocious old man. In desperation for more space, he hurled a chair from a nearby terminal at a pressure plate on a wall. The door it was keyed to slid open, leading into the observation deck, an enormous affair with a transparisteel wall overlooking the ice fields of Mathassi.

The two swordsmen continued their battle against that white background, their red blades a stark play of light against the ice and sky. Ran tried every combat maneuver he knew. Kicks, punches, trips, disarms, even overbearing chops were all foiled by Tauth's masterful fencing skills.

"I grow tired of this game," the Sith Lord rasped, batting Ran's arm with a fist, breaking the young Jedi's defenses for an instant. That instant was all that the vile creature needed. He blasted Ran with the Force, knocking back a few steps, then he swiftly advanced, chopping with an upwards spin of his blade. Ran released a cry of agony as his right arm fell away, severed at the shoulder. A second blast of the Force, followed by a stream of lightning, sent the battered Jedi against the ceiling. Tauth was relentless, letting the blue energy enter his opponent's shattered body. Billowing smoke and scorched flesh filled the air, accented by an unending scream.

But Ran was a survivor. Memories came to him: his youth in the gangs of Coruscant, his time in jail as a child, his first missions as a Jedi…. Surrender was not an option. It was not even in his blood. Through the pain and the burning and the smell of his own skin boiling under the tremendous heat of the lightning—through all that agony, he summoned the will to act. His lightsaber, held in his severed arm, flew to his grasp. Its red blade took Tauth's lightning with a hiss. He fell to the ground, hitting his knees hard against the floor, but he did not flinch. Compared to the burning of lightning bolts, hard surfaces were nothing.

"You certainly are persistent," the Sith Lord conceded with surprise. "Wounded, possibly dying, and yet you still fight. It would be a shame to murder you, warrior. You would do the Force great credit if you reached your full potential."

"I intend to," Ran said evenly, biting back the lingering aches wracking his body. He kept a firm grip on his weapon. "I intend to because I'm not going to die here." With that as his only warning, the young Jedi charged at the Sith Lord with Force-assisted speed. He became a blur, slashing once with his weapon. Suddenly, he was behind Tauth, not more than a meter away. His enemy gurgled once and fell into two pieces, slain.

The Sith were no more.

**Epilogue: What Did I Miss?**

Ran's injuries were severe and it was a miracle he had survived. After the battle, he simply collapsed and it was a full week before he awakened—with his usual gusto. "I'm hungry," were the first words he spoke upon regaining consciousness, to the relief, amusement, and irritation of his friends.

"So what did I miss?" the green-eyed Jedi asked around a mouthful of gruel. He lay in bed in the medical wing of the Jedi academy, tended to by Cilghal, a Mon Calamari Jedi healer, and a medical droid. Ran gave his new cybernetic arm a testing flex. Servos whirred in reply. It was as responsive as a real limb.

"You missed the ceremony the Mathassar held for us," Ascera told him. She sat on a stool next to him, holding his good hand with sisterly care. "We killed their demon and wiped out all of the Sith Quelsar. We brought about their Great Change, just like we promised. The Jedi are considered saviors twice over." She smiled. "They even gave us a ship—Dalaan Norsh's own vessel, the _Nebula Dancer_, which was rusting behind a snow pile for the past two thousand years."

"Sounds like a catch," he quipped. "A broken-down junk bucket."

"I think you'll be surprised by it. I gave it a once over, and it has quite the collection of modifications." Her voice died and her hand moved to his prosthetic. "I'm sorry, Ran."

"For what? It's just an arm," he said lightly, trying to dispel the growing depression that was radiating from her. "Master Skywalker has one too. It's no big deal." He meant the words. Against an opponent like Tauth, whose strength was augmented by madness, a missing limb was probably the best result Ran could have asked for. "Don't beat yourself up over this, Ascera. It wasn't your fault and there wouldn't have been anything you could have done."

"De-Lanna said you told her those same words when she came to visit you."

"And I meant them back then, too."

Ascera was quiet for a long moment, accepting the honest candor in which those words were given. She suddenly felt blessed to have as a close a friend as Ran Tonno-Skeve, infuriating though he may be. "You know," she continued with a smile, "she also said that you kissed her again."

"Well, she wasn't arguing. She kissed back, I swear."

"She said she punched you afterwards."

"Yeah, but it was more of a love-tap."

The Twi'lek shook her head and sighed. "You really are an idiot."

**End Shadows of the Past**


End file.
